


The Ocean's Secret

by FealtytoZ



Category: Pretty Little Liars
Genre: F/F, emison titanic au, only glimpses of the other couples
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2018-12-08 01:09:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 36,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11635809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FealtytoZ/pseuds/FealtytoZ
Summary: “I suppose that’s why I’ve never told this story. I’ve always feared that my words would taint it somehow. After all, how could I make anyone understand with words just how this woman saved my life? Saved my very soul.” Emison Titanic AU.





	1. You Are a Memory

Alison didn’t think there was anything left life could offer that would surprise her. At 100 years old, she had enough stories to fill a library: drama, romance, fantasy, even a murder mystery or two. But when she sees an image of a woman holding up a photograph on the television (the photograph distorted by discoloured horizontal static lines because of a twelve year old device that she refused to replace), her heart constricted in a fashion that should be worrying for her age. The knitting needle she held fell to the ground with little more than a clink, but it was enough to startle her granddaughter who was unused to witnessing such fumbles from her.

“Grandma?” Lily said with concern.

Alison rose from the couch, feet stumbling over her cane on what suddenly felt like treacherous ground, her hand outstretched in front of her and head slightly turned in an effort to bring her ears closer to the speaker.

_“…photograph of first class passengers dated one night before…”_

The camera began to zoom in on the photograph. Alison gripped one side of the television while the other hand practically began to stoke the screen. A hand crept up onto her shoulder, but she was too lost in the eyes of the woman she had not seen for 84 years to take notice of it.

“Grandma, what is wrong?”

It was a black and white picture – yet the colour was still all wrong. The lines on the screen tried to lie to her, making the eyes a muddy yellow rather than the deep brown she knew them to be. The brown of rich dark chocolate, the brown of the soft soil in her orchard pots, the brown she had spent her life trying to hold onto. Alison attempted to replace them in her mind, but found she could not hold onto the image, causing her to release a faint whimper from her lips.

_“…may still be hundreds of treasures like this in the wreckage…”_

Then the image vanished, returning to the woman with the harsh jaw and even harsher eyes, but all Alison yearned for was to see the photograph again, even if it was covered in yellows, greys, and all assortments of incorrect shades.

“Rewind it,” Alison pleaded to her Granddaughter, her voice cracking as her head zig zagged in front of the screen as if it would somehow turn the camera back towards the photograph. “Bring it back…please.”

“Grandma, it’s not recorded. We can’t. What’s wrong?” Lily’s tone was practically panicked at this point.

Alison’s hands dropped, her eyes welling with tears that she desperately fought. It was a sensation she hadn’t felt for some time, and certainly something her family members hadn’t witnessed since the death of her husband. Steeling her shoulders and pressing her teeth together, Alison drew a sharp breath.

“Bring me the phone love. There is something of mine that I would like returned to me.”

* * *

 Linda Tanner felt excitement rising within her like helium balloons through a clear blue sky. She could see the helicopter approaching in the distance, the thrum of its rotor blade sounding in rhythm to the frantic beat of her heart. The only threat to her elation was the bumbling idiot who was still rambling off to her side.

“…so if this is the same Alison Dilaurentis that boarded the Titanic…” Holbrook shouted.

“It is.” Tanner replied, waving orders to workers who knew exactly what their purpose was with a flick of her wrist. They were all used to the excessive noise from the machinery on deck, so verbal communication was mostly unnecessary. Besides, Linda had always been a woman of direct looks and few words anyway.

“Then we are dealing with a woman who is notorious for making up stories and lying!” Holbrook was stepping side to side, trying to catch Tanner’s eye from behind her like he hadn’t been repeating this mantra for the past day. She could have sworn that she dreamt of his insistent bumbling, though she wouldn’t have been surprised if he had come to her room at night and attempted to penetrate her thoughts as she slept, like a hypnotic audio tape. “This is dangerous, Tanner.”

She sighed, though it was quickly lost to the wind. “We have the biggest lead to finding the Heart of the Ocean since starting this project and you choose _now_ to have a panic attack?”

“What if she misleads us? Or worse what if she lays claim to the diamond? That photograph gives her legitimacy.”

“Unlikely, the buyer of the diamond is dead, there is no claim. Besides - first we need to find the damn thing, Holbrook.”

“This is the woman who people said blackmailed government officials when she was in her teens…I really think we should think about this first.”

Tanner could have sworn she felt the air impact her back from where his arms must have been flailing about. She stuck her heel into the deck, pivoting so that Holbrook slammed straight into her chest, though he bounced off like a ping pong ball while she remained still.

“She’s 100 years old. We don’t have the time to think about it. Now enough, I’ve had it with this paranoia.”

So Linda Tanner and Gabriel Holbrook stood on the stern of the ship, waiting patiently (though not comfortably in Holbrook’s case) as the helicopter descended, and finally the woman they waited for was lowered onto the deck.

Linda learnt a few things about Alison very quickly. Firstly: that age had no influence over passivity. The first words from her mouth was a rather… _aggressive_ request to turn that wretched noise off lest she finally turn deaf.

“Please forgive my Grandmother she’s quite…direct in her communication,” one of two clearly identical twins accompanying Alison said to Tanner, in such a gentle tone she figured it was an attempt to compensate for her grandmother. It was not really necessary…on the contrary, Tanner appreciated such direct communication. Though word and mind games were most certainly in her capacity, she found them tiresome and wasteful.

Secondly, Tanner learnt that Alison was a woman of particular exorbitance.

“Linda Tanner, at your service,” she said with a shake to the young woman.

“Grace. And this…” Grace indicated with a wave, “is my sister Lily, and of course my grandmother, Alison Dilaurentis-Fields.”

“Pleasure.” Tanner shook Lily’s hand first, and then Alison’s. Her grip was firm, and the look in her eyes spoke of a fierce, ancient determination. Not ancient because of her age, but ancient because Tanner saw a deep, persistent longing there - a longing for something lost, as if it had been there since the beginning of time, and the sole purpose of her eyes was to search for this very _thing_.

Holbrook continued to unload the helicopter, and Tanner had to chuckle as he stumbled under the weight of some of their guests’ items.

“You sure you packed enough?” Tanner asked.

“I carry my stories wherever I go, Mrs Tanner.” Alison said. “At my age you can only hope to have so many memories to fondly look back on.”

Thirdly, Linda learnt that a determined Alison was not a patient one. She attempted small talk with the woman, asking friendly questions to build up to the important ones which would come in due time, but Alison only repeatedly asked to see the picture. It unnerved Linda. Every other person on the ship was obliged to grant her every request, but this was a woman with no obvious respect for chain of command (though not with hostile intention). Linda guessed that at her age, patience was no longer a virtue, and gathering the respect and love of others wouldn’t have been high on the list of priorities either. So it was only twenty minutes later, once all the bags had been settled into her room that Linda agreed to Alison’s request.

“Alright Alison, allow me to take you back to Titanic.”

* * *

 Alison felt displaced walking among the rubble and the artifacts collected from the Titanic. She had not expected to be so distracted by random bits and pieces, but seeing rusted cutlery, jewellery, pieces of attire, and even chandeliers laid out on tables pushed her further into her reverie than she would have liked. The air itself felt tighter, like she was holding her breathe for the moment water could come crashing through the walls and swallow her whole. Her granddaughters sensed her discomfort, and Alison could feel their hands fluttering uselessly in front of them, split between deciding whether to comfort her and the understanding that there was no physical touch that could.

A flash of gold caught Alison’s attention on her left. She gasped, her cane dropping to the floor as one hand gripped onto the table and the other moved to pick up the object.

“Is that yours Grandma?” Lily asked as Grace picked up her cane for her.

“It was…once.” Alison barely whispered. It was a snow globe.

The base was in almost the same condition as she last saw it – glimmering and golden, blocks of solid gold squared on top of each other like a podium. The glass however must have smashed during the sinking, as all that was left was a rather rusted young girl with bright golden hair jutting out from the base. Alison closed her eyes, picturing how it once looked - the girl comprised of copper and silver, gripping a copper tree as if she were dancing around it.

Alison put the snow globe carefully back into its place.

“Our experts say that’s one of our most valuable finds,” Holbrook said, not hiding the bite in his tone. “I’m not surprised it would take your eye first.”

“Gabriel…” Tanner began.

Alison felt Grace tense beside her and she put a halting hand to her forearm before her granddaughter could retort. Grace was most like her Grandmother than anyone else – she didn’t take anyone’s crap, and when she believed someone was out of line, she wasn’t merciful in her responses.

“Relax, Mr Holbrook.” Alison said with no malice. “I am not here for this particular treasure. This wasn’t even mine at the time of the sinking. I had given it away. So I suppose I should have no qualms with you selling it to the highest bidder.”

Behind Holbrook, Linda gave a relieving nod towards Alison. She grabbed a frame from behind her, holding it out in front, presenting it to Alison like a gift. Alison froze for a moment.

“That, however, is indeed mine.” The entire room suddenly was still, as if they were truly submerged in water, just watching Alison as she unblinkingly moved towards Linda.

For the first time, Alison was afraid that her hands were too fragile. She suddenly noticed every wrinkle, every joint in her hand where the muscles felt weak. The photograph was so close and yet it seemed 84 years away, unreachable, but hers forever all at the same time. She did not grab the frame. Instead, her fingers pressed onto the picture, ever so lightly. The image was of five women, all dressed up in sparkling dresses and a rainbow of colour not picked up by the camera. Alison didn’t need to look closely to remember where everyone had stood. And besides, she only had eyes for the tall, dark haired woman in the centre. One might guess that these women had been friends their whole lives and were enjoying all the luxuries of Titanic together, bound escape the tragedy with their lives and would later recall the horrors until they were old and grey. One would be very wrong.

“Quite a diamond.” Tanner remarked, unaware of where Alison was actually looking.

“Yes…she was.”

Tanner frowned in confusion, and Holbrook for the first time exhibited an emotion other than suspicion.

Her thumb traced the outside of the woman’s face, and suddenly Alison felt the flood of tears burst forth. Her body shook with such force that Lily and Grace both grabbed her arms and supported her sides. Together they lowered her to a chair, and despite the feelings it had brought her, Alison beckoned for Tanner to bring her the photograph before her again. Tanner obliged, kneeling by her side as Alison continued to weep.

“Who are you crying for?” Linda asked softly.

For a long time Alison didn’t answer. She waited until her body stopped shaking, feeling everyone’s eyes on her, but at the same time completely unaware of any eyes other than the ones she was staring back into. Eyes she hadn’t seen for 84 years.

Finally, she lifted her chin to the ceiling, gathered herself, and then met Linda’s eyes.

“I am wearing the heart of the ocean in this picture.” Alison said, erasing all evidence that she had just been weeping from her tone.

Tanner balked. “Yes.”

“Given to me by my fiancé, Noel Kahn. This is what you want from me.”

Tanner shared a look with Holbrook, and then turned back to Alison. “If you truly carry your stories with you, then that’s what I want. I want your story, Alison. Give that to me, and this photograph is yours.”

Lily frowned. “I’m not sure my Grandma is in the condition to…”

“Lily.” Alison interrupted. She looked to both her granddaughters, both staring down at her in confusion and worry. “It’s okay. Really I should apologise to both of you. I should have told you this story a long time ago.” When Alison beckoned for her girls to take a seat, everyone who was still in the room found a comfortable position. Holbrook leaned against a bench, Tanner took up her seat herself and started setting up a voice recorder, and Grace and Lily took a seat beside their grandmother.

Alison took a deep breathe. “Before I begin there is something you must understand, Mrs Tanner. I am a liar, a teller of tales - have been since I was a child. In my younger years I would have told you that a person is better off with a really good lie, since the truth is unsatisfying and undependable. I was able to leave such cynicism behind a long time ago, but I’ve never have qualms with telling a fib or two. I once rescued a kitten and took it to an animal shelter, and to this day some people still believe that I saved a lion from a group of hunters during a South African safari.”

Grace and Lily both chuckled, however the room quickly felt tight and sombre when Alison’s expression dropped. It felt as though Alison controlled the silence of the room, holding it hostage with her breath. Everyone waited patiently, studying the women. For who in their right mind would ever tell a 100 year old woman to hurry up?

“I suppose that’s why I’ve never told this story. I’ve always feared that my words would taint it somehow. After all, how could I make anyone understand with words just how this woman saved my life. Saved my very soul.” Alison then raised her eyes to connect with Linda’s, the gaze piercing, unwavering, and unquestionable. “So let no one in this room doubt the truth of my words. Everything I am about to say has no exaggeration, and is not told with the purpose to create some grand tale to please an audience.

After all…Emily Fields was too good; too pure for me to ever allow the nature of lies to hurt her memory.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Thanks for reading the first chapter of my Titanic AU. I'll try and keep my notes short - this one should be the longest.
> 
> I don't intend to make this a carbon copy of the film, as it irritates me when people just copy and paste the dialogue. Many plot points will remain similar but my intention is to make Alison and Emily as true to their characters as possible.
> 
> This is my first attempt at fanfic for a long time, and first ever on AO3. All positive and critical feedback are much appreciated. Also I'm Aussie so there will be some different spelling.
> 
> If anyone is interested in being a Beta for me, please let me know! I'm prone to typos and would really appreciate it.
> 
> At the end of each chapter I will also post a song that either inspired me to write the chapter, fits the theme, or that I just enjoy. For the first chapter I present You Are a Memory by Message to Bears. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v2w8Cm0ZZ2s


	2. Show Me the Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first waves of change.

In the spring of 1912 I was quite the expert socialite. My family’s fortunes were rather depleted due to a few bad business decisions and some reckless spending from my brother, but dressed in exquisite gowns with a smug glint in my eye and a millionaire on my arm, no one would have known.

I knew the game well: manipulation, flirtation, flattery, blackmail…my arsenal of social tactics kept my family’s reputation high. That’s probably the only reason they put up with my general awfulness. Everyone knew that without me, we would have been living with far fewer oil paintings.

There were three key relationships I maintained for this purpose, and all of them can be seen in that photograph.

The first was Hanna Marin, one of the most renowned fashion designers in New York. I worked for her company as a model from time to time, and she ensured that my beauty would be legend. You see in those days we didn’t have email or digital cameras with images available at the click of a button. If the higher classes heard of a young beauty in their circles, the women would rush to see what standards they had to hold themselves to, and the men…well you can imagine. The point is you had to actively talk face to face to see what everyone was talking about, and that made for some easy smiles and smooth networking.

The second was Aria Montgomery. She had married the famous novelist Ezra Fitz in 1910 and through his contacts was set on becoming a senior editor of the Atlantic once we made it back to America. A girl’s reputation was everything, and there was no better way to spread your own good word than having a contact in one of America’s most well respected magazines. Whether there was ever a scandal or I just needed some shameless self-promotion, I had a friend ready to work that magic with the flick of her pen. Aria also had a good family name – you may know of her father, Bryan Montgomery, the architect of the Titanic.

And lastly there was Spencer Hastings. Her family name was the goldmine of social power. Generations of lawyers, businessmen and politicians made them one of the most influential families in the United States, and a recommendation from a Hastings was like the word of God. Peter Hastings, Spencer’s father, was a one of the managing directors of the White Star Line and was in charge of trade between New York and Liverpool. He had about as much money as he had affairs with women (though he flaunted one more than the other). However he had no sons (well legitimate ones that we knew of – who knows how many bastards he could have fathered) that I could marry. So instead I kept his daughter close, toeing the line between flattery and competition delicately enough to not damage our relationship. After all, the Dilaurentis name held its share of power and respect as well, even if we were essentially broke.

As you can see, I had surrounded myself with the perfect group to secure my future. I had the beauty, the fame, and the respect.

But of course, I needed a bank. Surviving on generosity and personal favours was fine, but I was interested in a much more stable financial arrangement.

…No Grace, I haven’t forgotten the fourth woman in the photo. We will get to her – let me tell my story.

Where was I? Ah yes – Noel Kahn.

Noel had more money down his bloodline than most of America has today. No surprise to you, I’m sure, since you are still searching for his diamond. Noel viewed the Titanic as many others did – a ship of dreams. Or, more accurately, a ship where he could court me in a way that would secure my heart (as if grand chandeliers and a few violins would open my heart). If only he knew what the ship of dreams would take from him…

Despite our engagement there was a deep chasm between us. I paid no attention to it since I knew (and he did as well) that such a divide was present in all my relationships. But Noel was too accustomed to receiving what most others could not and he would never have settled for my cold indifference, despite being able to boast that he somehow won the hand of the famous, merciless Alison Dilaurentis.

* * *

 When I stepped out of that carriage on April 10th and looked upon the Titanic, I felt an excitement I hadn’t felt in years. The excitement a builder feels when they start a new project; the excitement a writer feels when the lift their head to see a page filled with words and an empty inkwell; the excitement a child feels when they receive a large package from their relatives overseas. Though it wasn’t the size of the ship that excited me, nor the extent of its luxury. It was the sense of adventure, the thought of experiencing something new that was coursing adrenaline through my veins.

Not that anyone would have known.

“Decent, but they are trying a bit hard aren’t they?” I said with a dismissive wave.

“Decent?” Noel scoffed, offering his arm. “Alison this ship is so large it would single-handedly destroy an armada.”

Noel was always trying to get me impressed by the size of things.

“Yes Ali, be nice,” Aria commented from behind. “My Dad worked hard on this one.”

I smiled, but only one side of my lips curled upwards. “That certainly is clear. I must say Aria – I never thought there would be a woman he dedicated himself to as much as your Mom.”

I should explain. Aria and I had caught her father having an affair in the previous year. She was unaware that I was inconsistently blackmailing him with that information for a few extra dollars, but it’s not like they couldn’t spare the money. I’m not proud of it, but I also didn’t lose sleep by not sparing a moral thought for Bryan Montgomery. Did I hate him? Of course not – I was indifferent. Such comments were merely to remind others of the certain powers I had over them. Stop reminding people how dangerous you are, and they might become complacent.

Or worse – you will.

“Shall we board?” I posed it as a question, but had already taken three steps before finishing my sentence. “Before the third class rabble starts running around the place.”

“Be nice, Alison.” Hanna said, though not very forcefully.

“Each class has clearly designated areas. My father made sure of it. Stay out of the shared spaces and you won’t rub elbows.” Spencer said.

We boarded the Titanic together and headed straight for our suites, though we all quickly separated to explore our rooms. Noel had gotten us one of the deluxe parlour suites, with an adjoining room for the rest of my family. The suite included a private bathroom and lavatory, as well as walk in wardrobes, and wide amounts of free space for emphasized comfort. The legs of the chairs and tables were finely carved oak displaying intricate designs of Louix IVX, and the washstand was marble-topped. I ran my fingers along the cabinets and drawers and could practically feel the polish on the mahogany oiling my fingers, as if it had just been done five minutes prior. It was extravagant.

“Exotic…but lifeless.” I casually commented to Noel who shook his head with a chuckle. “Shall we start unpacking?”

“Can we not explore first? I’d like to see the smoke-room.”

“If I allow the stewards to decorate this room it will look like the sleeping quarters of a travelling circus. Go, we both know you have no interest in interior design.”

Noel left while rolling his eyes, and I spent the next hour filling the space with objects from Spain, paintings from Italy, and small ornaments from…honestly I couldn’t tell you what they all were or where I got them. Noel generally would buy me anything my eye lingered on for more than a moment, and it had all become a part of my own personal entourage.

There were a few things I cared for of course. I set up a bookcase in the far corner of the room, and my Grandmothers snow globe was placed next to me on my bedside table. It was the one thing I always had a specific place for.

“Wow, you really don’t waste time do you?”

Spencer waltzed into my room, hands in her coat and eyes wandering. She wore a look of bewilderment to see the space so filled. Unlike me, Spencer rarely consorted with the more exotic things in life. She was more of a revolutionary, consumed with politics but far more hesitant to get her hands dirty than most politicians.

“The way others perceive you matters.” I replied, offhandedly. “Surround yourself with things that reflect who you are. Have I taught you nothing, Spencer?”

She didn’t reply, instead walking straight for the bookcase, running her fingers along the spines and mouthing the titles that were all too familiar to her.

I scoffed. “You would go straight for the books…”

Spencer smoothly spun towards me. “You know if you don’t want these anymore I can take them off your hands.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I need them.”

“Why?”  

“Because there’s nothing a man fears more than an educated woman.” I paused with a smirk. “That’s why you've been single for so long.”

Spencer laughed. “I’m not sure whether I should take that as a compliment or an insult.” She definitely took it as a compliment. “I just hate the idea of these beauties not being fully appreciated.”

I remained silent for a moment. “Nowadays people know the price of everything and the value of nothing.”

Spencer paused, trying not to seem surprised as to not insult me, but I could see the raise of her brow from across the room.

“Oscar Wilde.”

“You’re not the only one who enjoys reading, Spencer.”

She walked back to the door, clearing her throat. “Well, we will be casting off soon. Will care to join me and watch?”

“Sure, I’m done here anyway.”

Together Spencer and I went to grab the other girls. All the boys had gone off exploring, so the four of us decided to head down to watch the casting off without them. However, having not explored the ship yet we were all relatively unfamiliar with the layout, and somehow we found ourselves accidentally stumbling down onto the shared floor.

As usual I was leading the group, and hadn’t taken two steps on the floor before I felt a painful impact in my shoulder. In the corner of my eye I could see a person fall to the deck, a groan emitting from their lips, but at the time I was hot with anger that I didn’t much care.

And then she rolled over facing upwards towards me, and it was like a cold wind burst onto my face.

She was beautiful. Stunning. And not in the way I usually called a woman stunning. Since I had lived my life completely surrounded by the upper class, acknowledging a woman was beautiful usually meant something else entirely. Previously it was like a question – what brand of make-up did she use, who was her hair stylist, how expensive was the dress she wore? Or in other words, how can I be inspired by this woman to make myself better? Or sometimes even – what can I do to make them seem less beautiful?

But this was something else entirely.

Her hair was a pure raven, stunningly reflecting the sharp lights of the ship (which made me appreciate them properly for the first time). Her cheekbones were high but smooth, and she had a body that was more finely carved than the furniture in my suite. And her eyes…they were so deep, so dark but so wide and expressive that it was like she held all her emotions and memories within them all at once, presenting them to the world.

I had never seen a lower class woman look so beautiful before…and so effortlessly. There wasn’t a splotch of make-up on her and she was wearing a plain white shirt under overalls that were slightly torn at the hem. That is truly what had me frozen in awe – she achieved her flawlessness without a bit of effort. And since she wasn’t my competition there was nothing else I could do but stare and appreciate it.

Until a tall young man walked over to help her up, and suddenly I felt all my friend’s eyes burning into the back of my head. I’m sure I was still for five seconds or less, but that would have been enough time for my friends concern to grow about why I remained silent. 

And then I remembered I was Alison Dilaurentis. For the first time, that felt like a handicap.

Now…I said I would tell you the truth. Even thinking of some of these memories fill me with regret; that sharp regret you feel that makes you want to close your eyes and hide away from the world. But the things you regret defines who you are. So just know if I was interested in altering certain events, I would start right here.

“I’m so sorry, Miss.” The woman said, finally rising to her feet with the help of her friend (who I assumed was her partner at the time). “That was completely my fault.”

“Yes, it was.” I bit back straightening my shoulders and ignoring the throbbing pain. “Why don’t you do us all a favour and assign yourself a ten foot radius to stay away from your superiors at all times. Who knows if I can even remove the filth from your clothing off my dress.” Not that I had checked to see if there was a stain at all.

Her friend looked like he wanted to rip my mouth from my face, but the look she wore was not one of surprise or anger at all. It was as though she had expected such a reaction and she was disappointed to be proven right.

I felt ashamed. But I didn't let it show.

I firmly held her gaze, trying again to not be distracted by her perfect features.

She broke eye contact first, giving a polite nod before walking dejectedly away down the corridor, her friend following a moment after. It shocked me…not seeing a hint of anger emitted from her eyes. I was used to being hated; some would say I reveled in it. However this…this was foreign to me.

Not that it mattered. I had no plans to ever see her again.

Life rarely considers what you have planned.

* * *

 Hanna, Aria, Spencer and I walked back to the top decks and stood against the railing, watching the ship cast off. Horns were sounding and screams from the lower decks could have been heard a mile away. The noise was so overbearing that none of us bothered to say a word.

It was pleasant.

On the shore I could see tears pouring down every second face, and even if none of them were for me I enjoyed the spectacle.

The waves in the crowd were for fathers, daughters, brothers and sisters, lovers and enemies, but they were also for the Titanic - for the maiden voyage of the most luxurious ship in the world. Together we felt the adrenaline, and it was enough to put a genuine smile on my face, and beside me my friends shared the sentiment.

But if I could go back, I would throw those three girls overboard to spare then the nightmare they were about to face.

* * *

 Noel gave the diamond to me on the second night of our voyage. I won’t bore you with the intricate details. He was cocky, I was impressed. He gave me a kiss, and I gave him warmer smiles than usual, just enough to give him a taste of victory while I enjoyed my own. I was absolutely thrilled to receive the _Heart of the Ocean_. There wasn’t a lady on that ship with a finer piece of jewelry, and I was ready to trumpet that fact.

I wore the diamond to dinner than night with a short-sleeved golden satin gown, ornamented with lace and an open neckline for optimum flaunting. The entire dining room gawked throughout the night. Even Mona Vanderwaal, one of my adversaries (though she was good friends with Hanna, much to my displeasure) approached me that evening.

“Be careful Alison,” she remarked. “There is such a thing as too much attention.”

“How would you know, Mona?” I replied. She scowled.

The dinner conversation revolved almost entirely around the _Heart of the Ocean_. My mother could not stop staring at it, and my father gave Noel more pats on the back in an hour than my brother smoked cigars in a week. Noel did not stop speaking throughout the meal, laying out the finer details of how he had acquired the diamond and the financial deals he made in its purchase. I’m not sure what he said – I spent my time absorbing the looks I was getting from all over the room. From my friends, from my father, from the woman who sat at the table behind me, and even from the band that was playing all the way in the far corner. Suffice to say, I enjoyed myself.

* * *

 Having my fill of attention for the night, I excused myself from the table once dinner was over. I told Noel I wished to retire to our room, and that was honestly my intention, but once I started walking I suddenly felt adventurous.

I hadn’t roamed many of the decks yet as they were quite full during the day time, and the previous night I had spent most of my time conversing in the writing room (reserved mostly for first class ladies). However the night was quiet and the wind was chilly, which left the decks somewhat abandoned.

I found myself walking to the stern, past the benches to stare out into the shadows on the water. I inhaled as the moon danced with the waves, creating an elegant ballet for my eyes. Then I exhaled, allowing the tension to drop from my back and shoulders, taking a moment to relax and casually lean over the railing.

It was a nice few seconds.

“Well, well, what have we here Lorenzo?” A deep british voice shouted from behind me. I pivoted immediately, straightening my shoulders once again and hardening my eyes to steel.

...This was the moment when I realized wearing a diamond the size of a fist on the shared decks was a _very_ bad idea. There were two men approaching me, and both of them stumbled at the sight of it, eyes going so wide as if they wouldn’t be able to properly see it unless their pupils matched its size.

“Quite the diamond isn’t she, Wren?” The other one said.

“Which one do you think is worth more? The jewel or the girl?”

They were both clearly drunk, drawling and shuffling along. That scared me the most – a sober man could be reasoned with, threatened, bribed or otherwise, but drunk men didn’t give a damn for consequences.

But there was little else I could do.

“I’ll tell you what your _heads_ will be worth if you take one more step towards me.” I spat.

They took three more steps.

I should have called for help right there, but pride can be a terrible thing.

“Fantastic. I love a woman with a bit of bite.” The one named Lorenzo said. He smiled a sickly smile, eyes glimmering in excitement.

And then they were both upon me.

My arms started swinging in every way possible, and when one hooked his arms under my arms pits, my legs took over those flailing duties.

But I was failing – my battles were of words, of knowledge and of secrets. This was not my arena.

I landed a hard kick to Wren’s stomach, angering Lorenzo. He threw me to the ground, and my arm knocked against the edge of one of the benches, a trickle of blood beginning to leak from the cut. I was attempting to stand when I heard a third voice.

“Stop it!”

Both Wren and Lorenzo stopped in their tracks, arms stretched out threateningly towards me. I peeked over the bench to see who it was, the voice sounding strangely familiar.

And there she stood, not a trace of fear in her eyes and body tenser than the string of a tennis racket.

“Touch her one more time and I swear I will throw you overboard.” She stated, as if it were one of the Ten Commandments.

Lorenzo and Wren were far too drunk to sense the danger in her tone, so they turned their attention from me to her. I would have been concerned, if I didn’t see the concentration written in the crease of her brow, and the confidence she held in her fist.

It all happened quickly after that.

With a quick precise punch she hit Wren squarely in the jaw, not a second after kicking the legs out from Lorenzo whose head slammed against the deck. With Lorenzo on the floor she held onto her forearm and then slammed her elbow into his chest. It even made me wince. Lastly, she kicked a disoriented Wren right in the balls.

They received the message loud and clear.

Lorenzo and Wren scurried off, hands waving all over their bodies to try and soothe the pain, and I was left on the ground looking up at my saviour.

The woman I had deeply insulted just a day beforehand...

She approached me cautiously, her fingers itching her own palm like they were uncertain with themselves. I could only stare at her. She was wearing the same plain white shirt as the day before, however this time it was complimented by burgundy trousers. I had never fully appreciated just how good a plain shirt could look on someone until that moment.

All the while she was staring back at me, eyes kind and questioning.

I swallowed thickly, trying to not buckle under her gaze. “What?”

“I’m just wondering whether you want me to keep a ten foot radius, or if you’d prefer me to help you up?” There was no malice in her tone. It was a genuine question, and I wondered how much of this woman’s sincerity would continue to shock me.

“I could use a hand…” I replied sheepishly.

She didn’t hesitate. With two quick strides she grabbed both my hands and lifted me from the cold deck. Her hands were calloused, feeling as though she had recently put them to hard use. Then she began to inspect me, much as I had her. Her eyes never seemed comfortable staring at one area too long, as though she was invading my privacy. However her eyes did keep darting up to mine and then away again, as if they were magnets that kept turning on and off. I, however, never moved my gaze away from her.

She then brushed my arm with her finger, a look of concern invading her expression.

“You’re bleeding.”

I could only nod dumbly, still trying to process everything that just happened, and everything that was happening.

She gave me a tender smile, and then indicated with her arm to the bench. “Please, sit down Ma’am.”

That finally broke me from my stupor.

“Don’t call me Ma’am, please.” I gave her a genuine smile of my own. It felt easy. “It makes me feel like I’m fifty.”

“Okay,” she lightly chuckled, helping me to sit on the bench. “What should I call you then?”

Miss Dilaurentis. Miss. My lady. Any one of those would do.

“Alison.”

Or that was fine too.

“Alright,” she cocked her head. “Alison it is.” It seemed to surprise her as much as it surprised me, though I tried to conceal it.

Then she ripped off the bottom of her plain white shirt, and I knew it'd be impossible to hide my surprise.

She paid no attention to it.

“Let’s make sure you don’t get blood stained on your dress.”

I looked to my arm for the first time since she arrived. The blood was leaking from the wound, though it seemed minor. But if I left it, the blood would travel downwards and certainly stain my gloves. Not something I wanted, but I also felt extremely self-conscious with her hands controlling my arm.

Alison Dilaurentis had never accepted help from strangers, not unless she manipulated them into it.

“You don’t have to…” I began.

“It’s not a problem, really.” She waved the piece of fabric in front of her, then knelt before me, my arm still secured in her hand. “Even if my clothes aren’t as filthy as you’d believe, they’re still much easier to replace.”

I felt a tinge of guilt drop from my throat to my chest, and it seemed to have taken my words with it. My discomfort at the remark was glaring, but she clearly did not delight in it. On the contrary, she kept at least three fingers on my arm at all times, trying to provide some sense of comfort as she struggled to find the right words to say.

And how could she know what they were? I had been an ass, and now she had saved my life (or at the very least my dignity).

She must have spent that short minute on edge, anxiously awaiting what I might say. But I remained silent, watching her as she wiped up the blood with a small handkerchief from her jacket pocket and then began to bandage my arm with the piece of her shirt.

It was only while she bandaged me up, delicately wrapping the shirt around the cut, that I realized she had barely spared a glance at the diamond. I expected someone like her to be entranced by it, to stare for minutes as though she didn’t believe it was real. But her concentrated frown remained plastered on her brow, only sometimes sparing a quick glance to my face to see if she was hurting me.

I wasn’t sure how I should respond to someone whose only motivation seemed to be to help. It wasn’t something I was accustomed to.

It took until she was finished to finally find my composure, and my words. Whoever this woman was, she would not be some grand exception that made me forget myself.

I closed my eyes briefly, activating the muscles in my body once more to tighten and straighten. When I opened my eyes again, I felt whole.

I looked at her handiwork, and then back to her with a smile.

“Well, they weren’t lying when they said the service on this ship was the best.”

She gave a laugh, and I could see some tenseness leave her body. Her laugh was fresh and free, and suddenly I felt light, like the last five minutes never happened.

“I think I should know the name of my saviour, don’t you?” I said eagerly.

She stilled, nervously bringing her hands together on her stomach. It was endearing. “Emily. Emily Fields.”

Emily. The name was as soft as she was.

“Alison Dilaurentis.”

The look on her face told me she didn’t recognize the name. That was a huge relief…and it shouldn’t have been.

I stood up from the bench and walked around Emily, peering down the deck of the Titanic to see if the two men were still lingering…but they were well and truly gone. I turned and stifled to see Emily intensely watching me. There was clearly something on her mind, so I tilted my head with a quizzical gaze. It was enough for her to feel comfortable to speak.

“Would you like me to go get an officer? Or the doctor?” she asked in a tone sweeter than honey.

“No,” I replied immediately. “Please don’t.” I took two steps towards her. “No one has to know this happened.” I expected my words to come out threateningly, but it sounded more like a plea.

Emily hesitated. “You’re still shaking Miss Dilaurentis.”

“Alison.”

She drew in a deep breath. “You’re still shaking…Alison.”

I gave her a cocky smile, in the meantime trying to still the hand that was still trembling. “It’s cold.”

It was enough to placate Emily, who gave a defeated nod. She obviously realized my pride was not a barrier she could pass, and that attempting to might once again put her on my bad side.

“I just would prefer to not leave you alone, after what happened.”

But there was no chance of her getting on my bad side with comments like that.

“Then sit with me for a moment, and we can enjoy the cool evening breeze together while I recover.” I sat back down confidently, crossing my legs as if it were a standard evening in the park, leaving a huge space to my side as an invitation. Clearly Emily was unsure how to handle my sudden change in demeanor, and she wouldn't have expected me to desire her company any longer than necessary. She probably intended to escort me to the first class quarters and then leave, but that would mean I would have lost her company in a matter of minutes. That was unacceptable.

But my request confused her. After all, if I was to have constant suspicions about what others wanted from me, I can’t imagine how she felt when a young, first class lady invited her for a conversation. Right after being assaulted by two drunk men.

Emily looked around her, as if surveying the ship would bring her inspiration to come up with a different plan. Perhaps she was on her way to meet with someone. Perhaps she wished to return below deck to be worshiped by all the men that she must have garnered attention from, or to spend a loving moment with the man I had seen earlier.

But I always got what I wanted, and I stared relentlessly at Emily until she finally accepted my offer with a not-so-reluctant sigh.

“Where’d you learn to fight?” I asked as she sat next to me.

“My Dad was a soldier in the American army. He taught me self-defense when I was younger.”

“You’re an only child then?” She raised one eyebrow at me. “A father doesn’t teach his daughter to fight unless he doesn’t have a son to teach.”

“Well then clearly you’re not an only child,” Emily said as she gave me an impish grin. Even her teeth were perfectly carved, like marble on a castle floor.

I brought my hand to my chest indignantly. “I was handling myself just fine, thank you.”

Emily tried to stifle her laughter. She knew what she said next would offend me. “Have you ever seen a bucket of coins be thrown into a crowd of starving people?” I frowned. “Your arms were waving about like the arms of those people in the crowd, trying to catch every penny they could.”

I huffed, but looked down at my hands with a smile anyway. It was silent for a moment, and then Emily hesitantly spoke again.

“One piece of advice…maybe don’t wear that thing in places that don’t have tight security. Especially by yourself.”

“Well I feel perfectly safe right now.”

She smiled as wide as the ocean.

I looked down at the diamond, still gleaming its deep blue in the pale moonlight. Then I looked back to Emily. There truly was no look of hunger in her eyes. It was as if she was completely disinterested in the diamond, apart from its relevance to me.

And that’s why I was so intrigued by Emily Fields. It was new to me; an aspect of human behaviour I was unfamiliar with. What does someone who had no interest in such a valuable item want?

And her eyes…they were so intense, so full. I needed to know what they’d seen, needed know why the way they looked at me made my heart stutter.

It was not like me to leave a mystery unsolved. A mystery was simply a secret not uncovered, and secrets were priceless. Emily Fields seemed like a well-kept secret with her very existence.

At this point I’d usually go through my collection of social tactics, evaluate the best way forward and create a connection best suited to my needs.

But I didn’t do any of that. I didn’t even think about it, barely breaking eye contact with her alluring eyes to think a clear thought for even a second.

Finally, I looked away. “I’m sorry, Emily. For yesterday. My behaviour was…unwarranted.” Apologising certainly  _was not_ in my arsenal of tactics, but I felt compelled to do it. I felt relieved when I did.

She shrugged. “I’ve had much worse. And you were right – I shouldn’t have been running in the halls. You have nothing to apologise for. Actually, I’m almost flattered that you remembered.”

“Why is that?” I asked.

“I know us third class-ers sometimes all look the same to...well, you know what I mean.”

I shook my head disbelievingly.

“What?” Emily asked.

“I don’t think there is a person on earth that would forget meeting you.” Emily balked, and I pushed on. “Firstly, you’re beautiful…” it sounded like a casual compliment in my head, but her cheeks turned a deep red. “And secondly, you’re just…unique.”

She smiled again, staring at me in wonder. I was used to such looks, but this time it puzzled me. She knew nothing of my reputation or my wealth, and I had given little reason for her to admire me as a person.

Nevertheless, I was starting to get accustomed to the wonderful sight of her smile.

I cleared my throat. “Well. You have saved my life tonight Emily. I can’t possibly let that go unrewarded.”

Emily shook her head. “No, please I don’t want your money.”

“Everyone wants money.”

“Well…” she said, stutteringly. “I don’t want money for doing what any decent person would have done.”

“The world is short of decent people. A bit of incentive for others to be more like you isn’t a bad thing.”

Emily opened her mouth to reply, but before she could, a high pitched call came from behind me.

“Alison! What are you doing out here?” Emily and I jumped from the bench like we were caught doing something nefarious. Hanna approached me suspiciously, arm and arm with Caleb. I was tempted to demand an apology for interrupting us, or at the very least quickly send them on their way. However I realized how it must have looked – I was conversing with a third class passenger, and not just any passenger, the one that had ran into me the previous day. Either Hanna concluded that I had been verbally abusing Emily, or I was gathering information for my grand revenge.

Irritation bled into my voice as I spoke. “Hanna. Caleb. On romantic evening stroll?”

Both Hanna and Caleb’s eyes were darting frantically between me and Emily. Emily stood frozen to my side watching the conversation anxiously, like she was expecting my cruel dismissal to come at any second.

“Yeah, we are.” Hanna said.

It was clear Hanna was not going away without some sort of explanation, and the lingering of her eyes on my bandaged arm was disconcerting.

I inhaled deeply. “Hanna, Caleb, please meet Emily Fields.” They both nodded towards Emily, and Emily gave a slight bow in return, but for the rest they all still remained immobile, waiting for me to elaborate.  “She was of some assistance to me tonight.”

Hanna raised an eyebrow to Emily, and Emily took that as her cue. “Yes, Miss Dilaurentis had a…”

“Fall.” I interrupted hastily. “The deck was wet from the spray and I fell on the bench. Emily here was kind enough to lend me a bandage.”

Emily gave a firm nod and then dropped her eyes to the deck.

Hanna looked to my arm and then to Emily's shirt, the explanation doing nothing to satisfy her curiosity, but she understood it was all she would receive for the time being.

Hanna sighed. “Well Noel is looking for you.”

I grimaced, realizing my time with Emily was about to end. “Then I best head back.” I turned back to Emily, who was already bowing towards me. I wanted to tell her it wasn’t necessary, but bit my tongue as to not further inspire questions from my friends.

Emily straightened. “Good evening, Miss Dilaurentis. Take care of yourself, and watch your step,” she said with one last subtle grin.

As I watched Emily’s back turn away from me I felt panicked. The idea of not seeing or talking to her again made my stomach suddenly feel like it was susceptible to sea-sickness.

“Wait!” I practically commanded. Emily spun back towards me, and I gulped. “I can’t possibly let you go without giving you something in return.” I looked to Hanna and Caleb, absorbing their puzzled looks. It would be a risk, and I would be asked a million questions for it, but all I felt in my heart was that I could not let this be the last time I spoke to Emily Fields.

I confidentially turned my head back towards Emily. “Come to dinner tomorrow night. Share a meal with us. For your trouble.” I waved my hand towards her torn shirt.

She was hesitant, but I could see in her eyes that she wanted to see me again as much as I wanted to see her. That fact was enough to warm my body in the cool evening. 

Emily nodded. “Alright. I'll be there.”

I couldn’t possibly let her go without giving her something in return.

But I should have.

Things would have turned out differently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see, the format of this story is that it will switch between first and third person for the past and present respectively. This format does mean that it would be difficult to add Emily's perspective in the story, and I am very reluctant to do so as it breaks the rules I have set. Also I don't believe it fully necessary. However if any of you lovely readers feel strongly about including her POV, please let me know and I may reconsider.
> 
> The song for the chapter is one of my favourites at the moment, Swim by Valley. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4BUM8Qx3dFk
> 
> Thanks for reading! As usual, all comments and kudos appreciated.


	3. It Feels Like It's Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Questions, Mermaids, and Sunsets.

“Have you lost your mind?” Spencer said.

The first class dining room had been remodeled into an echo chamber on that third morning. Aria, Hanna and Spencer surrounded me at the table, steam no longer rising from our still full cups of tea as their interrogations continued without pause. My head rested on the fingertips of my right hand, thumb working to rub my jaw and soothe my irritation.

“Why would you invite someone from steerage to dinner?” Aria asked in a tone that would suggest she was talking to a five year old.

“As I’ve told you, she helped me last night,” I replied, teeth grating.

Hanna scoffed. “It’s a cut – she didn’t save you from falling overboard.”

I looked to my arm. My improvised bandaged had been removed, the cut now a mere stain on my skin. I had applied some make-up to cover it, but there was still a definitive mark to be seen. Honestly it would helped me a _lot_  if it had put some effort in looking somewhat serious.

For the fiftieth time that morning I sighed in annoyance, tempted to reveal the truth just so they would stop. “What will save me from this unbearable line of questioning?”

“How about a decent answer…” Spencer muttered.

“I have given you my answer!” I snapped with a violent twist of my head. “Your unwillingness to accept it is not my problem.”

At my tone, silence fell over the table, the three girls all shifting uncomfortably in their seats. Spencer was clearly agitated, finally taking a sip of her tea as she refused to meet my eyes; Hanna started tapping her fingers on the tablecloth, her other fist clenched in her lap; and after ten seconds, Aria – ever the peacekeeper who never allowed a tense silence to fester – could finally take no more and spoke again in a gentle tone.

“What does Noel think?”

Feeling like I had control over the conversation once more, I smirked. “He responded about the same way as you, but he gave in eventually. Lately he seems to be more willing to grant my requests.”

“Being _nicer_ to him are you?” Aria said with a sly grin, one that irked me greatly.

“Don’t get excited Aria. Not everyone is as inappropriately public with their affections as you and Ezra.” Her discomfort at the statement contented me; Spencer and Hanna both remaining silent as they knew there was a degree of truth to my statement.

Aria and Ezra’s relationship started on a rather…unprofessional note. The two felt that they had to compensate for what others said about them by displaying their affections in public as much as possible. I could say that I just didn’t find it becoming of a higher class woman, but I knew there was a large part of me that envied the passion they held for each other.

When no one decided to speak for another minute I sighed once more. It was clear the three of them were not willing to let the subject go, and I wasn’t eager for a morning of stunted conversations or judgemental looks.

“It’s just a dinner girls. After that you don’t have to interact with Emily further.”

“It’s not _Emily_ that is making us nervous.” Spencer said. “Communicating with a steerage passenger is a very easy thing. You may have forgotten all the charity events that I have volunteered for because, unlike you, I don’t have unwarranted hate for anyone that didn’t grow up with a butler.” I huffed, bitter at her insinuation, but Spencer pushed on. “However your possible plans for this girl is another thing entirely.”

My jaw tensed. “What plans?” I asked with a hiss.

A gentle tap on my shoulder shattered the tension that was building around the table. I regrettably turned my head to see one of the crew members standing hunched beside me.

“Excuse me, are you Alison Dilaurentis?” he asked.

“Yes?” I said offhandedly, mind still focused on rebuking Spencer.

“I have a letter here addressed to you.” The crew member held out a small piece of paper. It was plain, folded in half, and there was no envelope to be seen. A messily written ‘Alison’ was scribbled on the folded side, and I did not recognise the handwriting. I frowned as I took the letter. Almost everyone I knew would certainly use an envelope. Or furthermore – just _talk_ to me since it was a ship with limited locations for my whereabouts. Utterly perplexed, I opened it.

_Dear Alison,_

_I hope you are well after the events of last night. I just wanted to write to you and make sure you were okay, and also thank you for your kind invitation to dinner. It was very generous of you and I look forward to it._

_Till tonight, my best wishes_

_Emily_

I must have read the letter three times before Aria spoke up.

“What is it?”

“Who’s it from?” Hanna said.

“She sent me a letter,” I replied with a bit too much inflection.

She sent me a letter. A girl from third class - who owed me nothing at all – sent me a letter to check on my wellbeing.

“Who?” Spencer asked.

“Emily.”

She’d sent me a letter just as a gentle reminder that _someone_ shared in my experience, and in some capacity wanted to offer her support.

“What does it say?” Hanna said eagerly.

“She’s just…checking up on me.”

It was quite plainly the most considerate thing anyone had ever done for me.

“For a cut?” Aria said, bewildered. The silence I was fast getting used to emerged once more, though this time they all seemed patient enough to wait for whatever I was going to do next.

After reading it a sixth time, I finally decided. I tucked the letter into my dress strap and stood, scanning the room to find the same crew member, but he was well and truly gone.

“Damn it,” I whispered.

“What Ali?” Spencer said.

I whipped my head back to Spencer, glared at her a moment, and then gave her a sly grin. “Spencer, would come with me?”

As usual, I didn’t wait for a response, but I knew Spencer would be too curious to ignore my request. It was unfortunate that I needed her to find Emily’s room number (considering she was the most aggressive in her questions of the three) but she was the only one that could aid me in finding the ships manifest. Or at very least, help me find her father.

Though when I explained what I wanted her to do, she didn’t ask questions. She did hesitate, eyeing me up and down suspiciously, but nonetheless she agreed to help. Together we found her father lounging in the smoke room. With a raise of his eyebrow and shrug of his shoulders, Peter Hastings escorted us to the officer’s quarters. Like many others, I had valuable information on him that he did not want advertised. As long as it didn’t negatively affect him, he was quite willing to help.

The manifest itself was a righteous pain to search through. There were seven Emily’s on the list, my heart skipping a beat in excitement each time I spotted one, followed by a scowl when I realised none of them were _my_   Emily. My last hope were two that did not have a last name recorded on the manifest. The one difference was the title: _Miss_ and _Mrs_. Not recalling a wedding ring of any kind, I concluded that Emily Fields was the former. At least, I hoped she was.

* * *

 “You don’t have to come with me Spencer.” I said, walking with such a fast gait in hopes I would lose her. Wishful thinking…

“I want to. I want to meet this girl that has you acting so bizarre. Make sure you’re not going to do something stupid.”

“How sweet of you.” I deadpanned.

“Alison this girl could just be playing you to get more money.” Spencer said, though she stated it more as fact than possibility.

“No, I offered her money last night and she wouldn’t accept it from me.”

“Then maybe she’s playing a longer game?”

“Look – I don’t need you to lecture me about how to protect myself.”

Spencer stopped in the middle of the hall way with a dramatic stomp. I twisted and mimicked her action, giving my own louder stomp in response. She ignored it.

“You are right, I shouldn’t have to – and that’s exactly what concerns me.” Spencer then took a few steps towards me, our faces now inches apart. “Alison, I’ve never pretended to like or agree with half the things you do, but I’ve always understood why you were doing them. But this time? I can’t for the life of me figure out what this girl can offer you.”

“Better company?” I snapped, starting to walk once again. I could do little more than give bitter retorts considering not even I had a proper answer for that question.

Spencer was hot on my heels with her shoulders rubbing up against mine and her lips almost next to my ear. “What’s so important that you can’t just talk to her tonight?”

I ignored Spencer, focusing all my concentration on the door numbers as we stampeded down the third class halls. She asked more pointed questions along the way and I continued to stay silent for each one. Not paying proper attention to my feet I bumped shoulders with at least four people, though I didn't bother to spare them a glance or give them an apology. Spencer, so polite and gracious, offered them for me.

Finally, we arrived at Emily’s room.

I turned to Spencer and spoke in the most nonchalant tone possible. “We’re here.” Looking to the door, I took a deep breathe, raising my hand to knock when suddenly I heard a scream from inside.

“Toby! Toby, no! Stop!”

It was Emily’s voice; loud and frantic, and it sent a wave of fear crashing down my spine. I didn’t hesitate, flinging the door open and almost ripping it from its hinges.

The sight I was greeted with was not what I envisioned.

Emily was in the arms of the man I had seen with her that first day – Toby, I assumed. His arms were wrapped around her, lifting her off the ground and spinning her in the air as she smiled and laughed.

Though he had to stop suddenly when he noticed me and Spencer in the doorway staring at them.

Well, I was staring at them, humiliation agonisingly rising within me. Spencer was staring at _me_ with wide eyes, mouth agape in shock. To this day it amazes me that after everything she witnessed, Spencer was still so slow to figure it all out.

“Alison?” Emily said, still suspended in the air.

Without looking away from me, Toby carefully placed Emily back on her toes. She didn’t break eye contact with me either, those dark eyes cloudy in bewilderment to see me standing in her doorway.

Toby, however, straightened his jacket and cleared his throat. “Despite what you may think of us, we do have manners here in steerage. And I was under the impression that it was common practice to _knock_ before walking into someone else’s room.”

Shame prevented me from replying immediately. I was frozen, stuck between berating myself for acting so ridiculously and thinking of what to say to make the situation less awkward; though thinking at all was rather difficult under Emily’s intense gaze.  

“Uh…apologies. We thought there might have been trouble,” Spencer said, finally speaking when she realised I would not.

Toby’s accusatory glare finally softened when he looked away from me and towards Spencer. If I hadn’t been so absorbed in Emily’s eyes I would have noticed how he gawked at her. I would have noticed how his cheeks lit up and lips widened just that little bit too much. I’m sure it would have been an almost identical reflection of how Emily and I were looking at each other.

Emily was the first to break the charged silence. “Uh…Toby. Please meet Alison Dilaurentis. Alison, this is my best friend, Toby Cavanaugh.”

Hearing the words _best friend_ from her lips made me feel like I was able to breathe again, my fists unravelling themselves from my sides like the limbs of an old woman waking from an 100 year slumber. Yet at the same time my chest felt more constricted than ever.

“Pleasure,” Toby said, about as displeasured as could be.

“Likewise.” I tried my best to inject my tone with a touch friendliness to counteract his. Now that I knew they were… _friends_ , it was surprisingly easy not to throw back a bruising retort. “Emily Fields; Toby Cavanaugh – this is my good friend, Spencer Hastings.”

Toby visibly balked. “Wait, Spencer Hastings? Peter Hastings’s daughter?”

Spencer smiled warmly. “Yes, that’s me.”

Toby turned to Emily and gave her an eager grin. “Peter Hastings is one of the managing directors of the White Star Line.”

Emily smiled at Spencer, then looked back to me. “Toby works in construction. When he found out about the Titanic he became obsessed with finding out everything about its design. He’s still heartbroken to not have been able to help build the ship himself.”

I saw my opening and I took it without hesitation. “Well, maybe Spencer could give you a tour.” I suggested.

Spencer’s head jerked, turning towards me, the protest in her eyes screaming. Her mouth was opening and closing so minutely that if you weren’t a hairs breathe away like I was, you wouldn’t have seen her struggling to respond. But I was so focused on getting Emily alone that there wasn’t a single part of me that felt bad for forcing Spencer into such an uncomfortable position. However this was, and would be the only moment she hated me for it – neither of us could have known I was playing matchmaker.

I turned my head away from her, giving Toby my best condescending grin. “Come on Spence. Think of it as volunteering for charity.”

Spencer’s jaw clenched, eyes narrow and rigid and face almost turning purple. Toby was half way to matching Spencer’s expression on both his and her behalf, but he was torn between his resentment for me and his desire to do exactly what I was suggesting.

Understanding I had pushed her into a corner, Spencer plastered a smile onto her face and beckoned Toby out of the room. “Alright, I’ll give you a tour.”

They left, and finally Emily and I were alone. My heart began to race as she studied me, eyes moving quickly over my body with a slight curve on her upper lip.

“What brings you to the third class, Alison?” asked Emily, nervous but intrigued.

I smirked. “What can I say? When something tries to prove its perfection to me, I go looking for the dark and mysterious. There’s always so much more secrets in the deep places.”

“Is that what steerage is?” Emily chuckled. “The dark and mysterious of the Titanic?”

I tilted my head, smirk still present and ignored her question. “Will you join me for a walk on deck, Emily?”

She beamed.

* * *

 “Thank you for your letter. That was a pleasant surprise.”

Emily’s eyes twinkled, and she looked to the ground, a blush emerging on her cheeks. Together we strolled along the open deck, a respectable but welcoming distance between us. Every twenty or so steps we would get the odd look from a random passer-by, but the morning was too bright to care. Emily was even more radiant in the sunlight, her skin shining like she was surrounded by a visible aura.

It’s funny how the company you are in can instantly make the sun shine brighter.

“I must admit I tried twenty times to spell your name. When I realised there was no way I’d ever get it right I settled for just _Alison_. So I’m sorry for it being informal.”

I laughed incredulously. It was a talent that this girl could still find a reason to apologise after the best of actions and intentions. “Apology not accepted; it is not necessary.”

Emily smiled gratefully. “Well…I just wanted to make sure you were okay. After what you told Hanna I figured you didn’t tell anyone the truth about what happened last night, so if something was wrong no one would know…” She paused, inhaling deeply. “I just wanted to make sure you knew you’re not alone.”

Emily’s words made my legs feel like they were trying to stand on water. “I am. The cut was nothing, it should be fully healed in a few days.”

“I wasn’t talking about the cut.” Emily said softy. She stopped walking for a moment, stepping to the side and leaning against the ship like we were about to make a nefarious deal. I approached her curiously. “Sometimes when bad things happen to us, shock prevents us from feeling the things we should be feeling,” she said, almost whispering. “Then we wake up the next morning, realise it wasn’t a dream, and suddenly that shock barrier isn’t there – and we feel everything at once.”

My chin tilted upwards. “Speaking from experience?”

“My father died last year. And before that…I lost someone very special to me. The second day is always the worst.”

My mood soured instantly. “I’m sorry,” I said, regret and sadness that I borrowed from Emily tinging my voice.

“Bad things happen,” she replied wistfully.

“Why do I get the feeling they happen to you too much?”

Emily smiled at me, appreciating the observation but not eager to respond to it. I watched her closely as she bit her lip, dropped her head and drew circles on the deck with her toes. The sight brought me anguish, so instead of allowing her to wallow I tapped her foot with my own, and indicated for her to walk once more. We stepped silently down half the deck and when our eyes darted back and forth uncertainly between each other, her warm smile began to return.

“So,” I began. “Emily Fields, tell me, what do you do when you’re not saving damsels from drunk imbeciles?”

Emily chuckled. “Nothing interesting I can assure you.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “Let me be the judge of that.”

She sighed and brought her hand together. I smiled at her nervousness. “Well, until recently, I wanted to be a swimmer.”

“Really?” I replied, not surprised that a woman with such a good figure would be an athlete. However from her shy demeanor I also hadn't picked her as the competitive type.

Emily hummed an affirmative. “I was good at it. Wanted to make the Olympics this year in Stockholm.”

“Then why are you on a ship sailing back to America?”

“I injured my shoulder two years ago. Got hit by a car and…the dream was over.”

I grimaced, growing angry on her behalf for the second time that morning. “Emily…if I could punish the world for you, I would.”

Her lip quirked upwards. “I’m hoping it will make it up to me. I can still swim well I just…will never be the best.”

“Well...if you can’t get faster, you know what you have to do?” I said with an amused twitch of my brow.

“What’s that?” she asked, gazing out to the ocean.

“Make everyone slower.”

Emily laughed boisterously. “Are you going to cripple my competition for me Alison?”

I smiled, not daring to blink lest I miss even a millisecond of the happiness Emily was exuding. “Say the word.” I said, without a hint of jest.

She took her eyes away from the still water, connecting her gaze with mine. Without realising, I must have been looking at her with an intense adoration, because her smile froze and her eyes stopped dancing. They turned intensely dark, drawing me to them like magnets. It was so overwhelming, like being tossed and turned by the crashing waves on the beach that I almost turned away. Almost.

“You know…” I said teasingly, neither of us blinking. “I think I know what you are.”

Emily grinned excitedly. “What’s that?”

“A mermaid.” I said. She released another laugh, and I did my best to make sure it didn’t end. “Think about it. Mermaids are expert swimmers; creatures of the sea that lure men with beauty and the voices of angels.”

“Is that what I do? Lure people?” She replied doubtfully, though still giggling.

“Well why else would I be here?” She stopped laughing, and that same intense look returned.

It was just an off-the-cuff joke. I didn’t understand or think about what I was insinuating.

_That_ Alison didn’t have the slightest idea how much she meant it.

* * *

 We circled the deck a countless number of times, talking about everything and nothing all at once. I found myself losing my default posture over time – my shoulders dropped lower, my back was slightly more hunched, and my arms waved freely about my sides trying to accurately portray the words that came from my mouth.

Emily told me of her travels to Europe: how she wanted to find relatives of her father but ended up missing her mother too much; of how Toby had saved her life when he found her on the streets (I made a mental note to be extra kind to the man next time I saw him); and how she worked for him in construction until she raised the money to return home.

As for me, well I told of her of my work with Hanna, my friends, my embarrassment of a brother (a description she side-eyed me for), my upbringing in Ohio and the general details of my relationship with Noel. When I began telling her of my family’s financial difficulties, I felt the same surprise in my chest that she portrayed on her face. It wasn’t something I ever revealed to people voluntarily, but I figured that considering her own situation, she wouldn’t judge. But of course...Emily would never have judged me either way.

And so we continued swapping histories throughout the afternoon. Though there were a few stories that I exaggerated in the hope that her eyes would sparkle just that little bit more towards me.

“…and then the senator stood up in front of everyone and said he wished I was his daughter,” I said proudly. We both stood at the edge of the ship, our legs exhausted from the laps we had walked.

Emily shook her head and looked accusingly toward me. “You’re making that up.”

“Absolutely not. But all stories need a little extra flair,” I replied with an extravagant hand flick.

“Alison you _are_ flair.” Emily’s hands picked at the railing, comfortably leaning her hip against it.

I leaned on the railing with my elbows, looking out towards the colours on the sea. The sun was beginning to set, gradients of reds, oranges and pinks beginning to appear on the horizon. There is something so much prettier about a sunset on the ocean. It is…clean. Simple. There is nothing in its way and the sun feels more at peace as it falls away from the world.

The ebb of the waves that day was so gentle, making the colours flicker. It’s as if they were there to remind all those who saw them that all is well and no matter how the day was, they would return to greet you in the morning. I decided there standing next to Emily that dusk was my favourite part of the day.

“So, marriage?” Emily asked awkwardly. I hummed in response. “Excited about it?”

“Should I be?” I asked in a disinterested tone. I saw Emily shift her feet uneasily in the corner of my eye, but from her tone the subject was clearly something she wanted to discuss.

“Well…yes. You’re marrying the man you love.”

“Who said I love him?” I replied with a scoff.

“Well…you’re marrying him aren’t you?”

I rolled my eyes at her naivety and turned, trying my best to not wear my usual condescending expression. “And?”

“Well isn’t love the reason you should marry someone?”

I laughed, causing Emily to frown harshly. “Noel is rich - I won’t have to worry about anything again because I am marrying him. Love is a fantasy. People only fool themselves into having it because they imagine the perfect life. But all humans just use each other for their own purposes in the end.”

“No. That’s not true.” Emily said determinedly.

I scoffed sarcastically. “Oh I suppose you’ve felt love then?”

“Yes.”

“Then why aren’t _you_ married?” I said aggressively.

“Because she _died_!” Emily burst out.

The breeze stopped. At least I think it did. The Titanic slowed, or perhaps it was just the beat of my heart. The people around us turned to nothing but ghosts as I comprehended what Emily had just told me.

I felt many things at once: surprise, excitement, fear. Really, I should have been more shocked than I was, if not for the part of me that already suspected. The part of me that could read people as well as a statistician reads a graph; the part that made my parents fearful of me since I was nine; the part that had unconsciously sent me to Emily’s room that morning in the first place; and the part of me that knew exactly what was happening between her passionate glances and flirtatious smiles.

It was just something that, until this moment, I didn’t have to confront.

Suddenly my hands felt sweaty, and blood starting pulsing with something I couldn’t identify. I can tell you now – it was pulsing with possibility. But Emily – Emily was looking down at her hands and I could see the wet spots forming at the corner of her eyes.

“I probably shouldn’t have told you that.” Emily whispered, her voice as fragile a glass teetering on the edge of a table.

Something inside me cracked, my harshness falling away the longer I watched her despair. She must have thought this was the moment I’d turn on her, that I’d be so disgusted I would banish her from my sight and declare that the sufferings she’d experienced were just.

But really all I felt was mourning - for the cruel life she had ahead, and for the one she’d already gone through.

“The other person you lost…she was your lover?” I asked softly, my words almost only to be heard by the wind.

“Yes.”

Without thinking, I placed my hand on top of Emily’s, gripping it gently but firmly. I tried to pour sorrow, empathy, and tenderness into my palm, and some of it must have gotten through because Emily raised her head with a glimmer of hope in her eye. She stared at me, mouth just barely hanging open with an unknown question on the edge of her lips. But she left the question unasked, and we stayed like that for many minutes, the sun creeping ever closer to the horizon as Emily recovered from the unwanted trip down memory lane that I had sent her on.

Eventually, and reluctantly, my hand crept away from her, and we both leaned over the railing, shoulder to shoulder.

“I’m glad you told me.” I said firmly.

“Really?”

“It was brave.”

“You’re not disgusted?” She asked with surprise, but not without gratefulness.

I nodded. “Everyone in this world is so easily persuaded by tradition and by what others think. It’s why I am not religious – the idea that humans should base their opinions on books written hundreds of years ago is ridiculous.” I shook my head with fervour. “As if God would ever actually care about what we thought. And if that isn’t bad enough, they’re affected by what everyone around them says society should be instead of making their own conclusions by what they know and learn. So when someone comes along that defies that and is brave, I admire it. Which is exactly what you just did.”  I turned my head to emphasize my meaning, but when I did I saw her looking back at me with a raised eyebrow and some unease. “What?”

She was very hesitant, inhaling and exhaling multiple times before she spoke. “It’s just…aren’t you doing exactly what you just said?”

I turned my body fully towards her and let one arm fall to my side. “What do you mean?”

“I mean doing things because other people think you should do them.” She gestured her arms outwards with a shrug. “Alison I just listened to you talk about your fiance like he’s a product in a factory. In fact, from what you’ve told me it sounds like almost everything you’ve done in your life was to impress other people.”

“Thinking I do anything to impress anyone just shows you don’t know me at all,” I replied, annoyance creeping into my voice.

“You care about what others think of you,” Emily stated.

“Wanting a reputation and not being able to think for yourself are two different things.”

Emily sighed in exasperation. “Okay. Just do me a favour and answer one question.” She held up a single finger. “If there was anything you could do right now, anything at all, what would it be?”

My nose crinkled and eyebrow rose, challenging her seriousness, but her face remained sturdy. I let out a huff and shrugged. “I guess I’d…” Numerous unidentifiable sounds spilled from my lips as I tried to make myself think faster. “I-I would host a grand party celebrating my engagement.”

Emily rolled her eyes.

“What?” I said. “I like parties!”

“And if I thought that’s what you really wanted I would be satisfied with your answer.”

I bit the side of my tongue and tilted my chin in defiance. “What the hell do you know about what I want?”

Emily softened, all her muscles releasing the tension she was holding captive within them. “Because…if you had it you wouldn’t feel the need to make up stories about yourself.”

I turned away from her.

No one had ever spoken to me so boldly, not even Spencer. Emily was practically a stranger, but I started to feel terrified that she was beginning to understand me better than the people I’d known my whole life.

“Well if I’m so fake then why have you bothered talking to me all day?” I said bitingly.

I was tempted to turn to her, watch the dilemma in her eyes, watch her fingers twitch and her cheeks turn red. But I started to realise that all the time I spent studying her was an opportunity for her to study me in return. At this point I was feeling far too transparent to allow that to happen. So instead I waited. And waited.

Emily took a deep breath. “Remember what you said about...about wanting to find the darkness in things that seem perfect?” I nodded, looking downwards to Emily’s hands that were resting on the railing. “I guess - for me it’s the opposite. When someone tries to prove to me that they are wicked, I start looking for all the reasons they aren’t.”

She was too good. Far too good for me.

“Some people are just bad.” I replied without contempt.

“Maybe. But you can’t say for sure until you try.” I still hadn’t looked to her, but I could see her fingers itching to curl around mine just as I had done to hers. “Alison…freedom isn’t having a lot of money and being able to order people around. Freedom is being able to close your eyes and say that even if everyone in the world disappeared, you would still make the same decisions you did before.”

My breath hitched.

How can I accurately describe what I felt in that moment?

…Do you know that feeling you get when you wake up from a realistic dream you don’t remember? Something feels off all morning. Like something in your life went horribly wrong but you can’t tell what it is. And then suddenly you remember it was only a stressful dream, and the morning you woke to really is clear and bright and the day is full of possibilities?

That’s how I felt when Emily said those words to me.

”So…what would you do?” Emily gently asked again.

Finally, I looked back toward her. “I’d go to Paris.”

She smiled, content. “Why Paris?”

“Stories. The books all rave about its beauty, its romance.”

“I didn’t peg you as a romantic.”

By the way she gasped, I knew I gave her a piercing gaze. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Emily Fields.”

She remained silent for a moment, her finger tapping the railing. “Promise me you’ll go one day. Whether you go by yourself, with friends, or with Noel. Just go.”

I looked down at my hands, sadness suddenly creeping into my spine. I could hardly tell Emily that going with Noel was the last thing I wanted. Going with him would taint what Paris was, or could be. The relationship I had with him was for business, and business alone. His company was not for dreams.

And then I remember almost picturing what it would be like to visit Paris with Emily. Climbing the Eiffel tower, shopping down the Champs Elysees – but I erased that thought faster than it had appeared, for I was beginning to sense the consequences of allowing such thoughts to persist.

“You know…” Emily began, “I should have asked you hours ago. We’ve talked about everything from street fights to politics, but I must admit I still don’t understand why you asked me to walk with you this morning.”

I cocked my head. “Would you believe me if I said I was bored?”

“I would if you insisted. But…”

I sighed. It was only fair that I gave Emily a semblance of an honest answer, having consumed practically her entire day. Fairness and honesty…those certainly were two concepts I had never given much consideration. But Emily made me _want_ to tell the truth, because if I did, I knew that I would have earned whatever bright reaction she would give. And that was worth everything.

“I can read people Emily. I read them very well.” I looked around me, spotting the familiar faces that had occupied the deck for the afternoon. With a quick head tilt, I indicated toward the stern. “See that lady over there? She’s unhappily married. You can see the wedding ring on her finger but she’s using her sleeve to try and hide it every time a decent looking man walks by.” Emily quirked an eyebrow at me, impressed, but I wasn’t done. I pointed to a young boy who was zigzagging around people, laughing and chasing a ball. “And that little boy? He’s run off from his parents to have some fun on deck. He is looking over his shoulder every few seconds like the mafia is about to catch him.”

Emily then leaned on her elbow towards and gave a smile that I could _definitely_ identify as flirtatious. “And me?”

“You?” I mimicked her stance, bringing the hand I was leaning on to my cheek and squinted my eyes, like a doctor examining a wound. “You’re kind. Loyal. Fiercely protective of the things and people you love.” Emily blushed, which only spurred me onward. “You feel responsible for them, which is why you’ve chosen to return to your mother rather than travel around Europe like your free spirit wanted to. You’re hard-working, determined and resilient, which is why you refuse to hate life even after what it’s taken from you.”

Embarrassment coloured Emily’s skin. “Quite the flattering review. Though I’m sensing a _but_ …”

I shook my head fiercely. “No…that’s just it. I can’t find one. And I’m someone who has always believed everyone has secrets just waiting to be uncovered. By me, mostly.” I added casually.

“So that’s what this is? You’re spending time with me so you can uncover my secrets?”

I hesitated. “I’m spending time with you because…I’m becoming more and more convinced that my first hypothesis was right: that I won’t find one.” I took a steadying breath. “And that challenges everything I’ve ever thought about this world.”

There was little more I could say, but she looked at me like she wanted me to give her all the words in the world.

For a minute, we both watched the sun set in each other’s eyes.

When I saw the last ray of light fall, I looked away.

“Is that a better answer?” I said with an indignant, uncomfortable shrug.

She paused. “Nah. I still think you’re lying.”

I snapped my head back only to see Emily smiling cheekily, and we both started laughing freely.

Unfortunately, that was the moment my friends decided to make their presence known. Either it was bad luck, or they had been watching us for a while and just waited for the least tension filled moment to interrupt.

“So _this_ is where you’ve been all day,” Hanna said with a suggestive tone. 

I took a whole step back from Emily and glowered at Hanna, feeling like a drug addict that’s been yanked off their high. “Looking for me were you?”

“Just for dinner,” Aria said hastily.

At the thought of dinner, I was suddenly aware of the acute pain in stomach. Emily and I had been so immersed in each other that we’d forgotten about basic sustenance.

While I berated myself, an eager smile broke out onto Aria’s face. “So is this the Emily Fields I have heard so much about?” She asked.

Emily recoiled when she realised that I had spoken of her to my friends.

“You must be Aria.” Emily said before I could introduce them both. She gave a modest bow. “It’s a pleasure to meet all of Alison’s friends.”

“Talking about us are we?” Spencer said, crossing her arms. “Good things I hope?”

“Oh all good things…” Emily replied. “And of course, none of them true.”

Hanna guffawed. “Oh, I like her.”

Emily smiled so wide you could see her wisdom teeth, and I scorned them all. On the inside.

Trying to avert the attention away from my own ridicule, I turned to Spencer.

“How was your tour this morning, Spencer?”

“Good.” She replied curtly, eyes flickering over to Emily as a very obvious blush shone on her cheeks. I made a mental note to interrogate her about that later. Though my thoughts were rudely interrupted by the bugle call, signalling dinner.

Aria pulled at the bottom of her dress. “Well I guess that’s dinner time. We will see you soon Emily?” she asked as both her and Spencer began to backpedal.

“Yes, you will.” Emily turned to me, her bottom lip fluttering with words begging to be released, though she was reluctant to allow it considering the company we were in. I spared her the struggle.

“Thank you for your company today, Emily. I look forward to seeing you tonight,” I said.

“Pleasure. And likewise,” she replied.

I moved to walk away with Spencer and Aria, but had to stop when I realised my arms had a lot more space to move then they should have.

I spun back around to see Hanna walking towards Emily, a pondering eye flicking up and down and left and right. She circled around Emily with a hand hovering just above Emily’s shoulders. Emily, for her part, seemed positively frightened. I would have laughed if I didn’t know exactly how she felt.

“Hanna…” I said with clear warning.

She didn’t even look at me. “You guys go ahead. Emily here…” Hanna grinned and met Emily’s eyes, “...is going to come with me. I have the perfect thing for you.”

The stare was one of a predator, and it was the look Hanna wore when she found a burst of inspiration. I wanted to place my own body between the two if only to stop her from looking at _my_ mermaid like a project.

“Hanna…” I said again with a threatening step.

She gave an exasperated sigh and finally looked at me. Emily still looked as lost as a blind woman in the amazon.

“You weren't going to let this beauty turn up to dinner in... _this_ were you?" Hanna said, waving her hand up and down Emily's torso. Emily didn't even have the decency to look insulted. Hanna then gave me a dismissive wave. "Alison, don’t worry. I mean usually I wouldn’t be eager to work on someone of…lesser means.” Hanna was what you would call an expert at tactless comments, and unlike me, she did it accidentally. “But this?” Hanna turned back to Emily with a wicked smile.  

“ _This_ I can work with.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going to try and post a chapter a week consistently. 
> 
> Song for the chapter is what I'd imagine is Emily's theme song in this fic, Live Life by Zayde Wolf: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kgxYhqpBmdU 
> 
> As usual, comments and kudos much appreciated. Thank you everyone who has given kudos, and special thanks to the people who have commented. It keeps me well motivated!


	4. Into the Wilderness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner in first class.

That night I busied myself with make-up, worked to iron all the crinkles of my dress with my fingers, and I even sought out some of my favourite book passages just to distract my mind from the fact that Hanna was alone with Emily. If it were one of the others, there would have been little reason to worry. Aria would have spoken in a soft voice, reassuring Emily about any uncertainties she was feeling. Spencer would have been polite. Perhaps a tad too inquisitive, but she understood the art of subtlety. But Hanna…Hanna thought subtly was building a vegetable garden to hint to someone they should go on a diet; and the last thing I wanted was a mortified Emily at dinner, especially if Hanna was indulging her with stories about _me_.

I tried to focus on readying myself for dinner. The dress I had chosen was a bright yellow, accompanied with my usual white satin gloves. I was perfecting the waves of my hair with a pin curl, trying to mimic the gentle curves of a flag in a light breeze when my mother strode into my room.

I watched her stare at me through the mirror. She looked as unrelenting as ever, dressed in a deep purple gown that stopped just below her ankles. It dropped straight as the line of her mouth, not a bump of imperfection present. She stood as though she could command each muscle in her body simultaneously, like they were soldiers standing at attention. It made her stoic, intimidating, and powerful. This was the mother I modeled myself after. We were practically mirror images.

I wish I had spent more time finding something deeper for our relationship.

“You look gorgeous tonight, Alison,” she said, her lips unmoving but a glint present in her eyes. Her fingers found each other, clasping in front of her stomach.

“Careful mother. I may feel complimented,” I said with a light twitch of my lip.

“That was the intention.”

I cleared my throat. “Do you mind helping me with this zip?”

That’s one thing that hasn’t changed in eighty years. Women’s fashion has always been about style, not comfort.

My mother walked over silently, giving the zip a firm tug before straightening the wrinkles apparent on my lower back. “Noel was asking for you today,” my mother said. I rolled my eyes, not caring whether my mother noticed or not. Such comments from her were never mere attempts at conversation - they were covert interrogations.

“Why? Did he get bored of talking about horses and smoking cigars?”

Her hands on my dress immediately became more aggressive. I had to straighten my back to stop from keeling over. “This isn’t a joke, Alison. Imagine what Noel would do if he found out what you were actually doing all day?”

I scoffed and turned around, eyes glaring accusingly at her. “Have you been following me?”

The lines of her mouth remained hard as stones. “Don’t be ridiculous. But when my daughter disappears for hours I do get concerned. A mother makes it her business to know what her child is doing.”

“How touching that you care about my welfare. Or is it just Noel’s wealth and not the ‘fare’? I always get confused.”

She pointedly ignored me. “What are you doing spending your time with third class filth?”

I strode past her indignantly, walking to the jewelry box. “Calm down, it’s not contagious.”

“Of course it is.” I didn’t bother to look at her. I knew her expression was as harsh as her tone. “Surround yourself with the people you want to be like, and one day you will become them. Have I taught you nothing?”

My fingers paused on a pair of pearl earrings and I sighed angrily. “You’ve taught me everything I know.”

I could hear the violent inhale through my mother’s nostrils from the other side of the room. “If you don’t play your cards right with Noel, we all will end up in those same gutters with your new friend.”

It was almost impossible to not defend Emily on her behalf, but I could hardly act offended when for the past sixteen years I hadn’t given a second thought to anyone that wore the same clothes two days in a row. So instead I focused on what I knew mother truly cared about. “You know that won’t happen.” I pivoted with a stomp. “I have always prioritised this family.”

“No, Alison.” my mother took slow, predatory steps towards me. She stopped a few paces away, far enough to not portray that she was losing control of her anger, but close enough to establish her dominance over the conversation. Over me. “You’ve always prioritised yourself. But so far that has always meant the best for this family. As long as that doesn’t change, I have allowed, and will continue to allow you to do the things you do.”

My chest felt tight, and I realised I hadn’t been breathing properly for the last minute, trying to hold my frustration in my lungs. I thought if I even dared to breathe through my mouth a torrent of furious words would come out - and I was nothing if I was not composed. Another thing my mother taught me. But at this point, I’d had it with people telling me of their concerns and suspicions about something that was none of their business.

Of course if the roles were reversed, I probably would have pushed even harder than she was.

I exhaled slowly, then grabbed the earring from behind me. “Paranoia looks terrible on you, mother. I know it must hurt your pride to depend on me, but don’t worry. I’m sure the dinner conversation will be as bland as always and the food will taste exactly the same.” I began to walk past her and toward the door when she grabbed the sleeve of my dress.

“Alison…” she said, her tone far less hostile than I had expected.

“What?” I snapped with a twist of my neck.

She raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you going to wear your diamond?”

I looked back toward my dresser, and sure enough, I had left the diamond sitting inside its excessively large case. I could say that my experience the previous night had deterred me from wearing the diamond, but that was not the truth. The truth was that suddenly the extravagant gift from Noel seemed a far bigger burden than it was the previous day, and while getting ready I hadn’t spared it a single thought.

Which is why I felt so startled when she reminded me of it. Almost like that moment when someone reminds you of a fond memory you had long forgotten, and  you feel as though you’ve gotten a piece of your life back.

“Of course.” I replied after far too long. “All this talk distracted me.”

It was a terrible excuse and we both knew it. My mother was eyeing me suspiciously, the intensity of her stare holding a thousand prying questions. But as long as I wore the necklace, I knew she wouldn’t ask them. So I chose to wear the heart again; but it fell heavier this time. Like it was filled with my secrets. My lies.

* * *

 If time travel were possible and I could only use it for one purpose, I would use it to skip waiting times. Forget going back to the death of Jesus or seeing a future of robots and flying cars. Waiting for the big moments of your life are some of the most torturous minutes and hours and days you could ever experience. Why? Because a wandering mind is a dangerous thing. I would have seemed the image of grace standing at the bottom of that grand staircase, but on the inside I was fighting a great battle of nerves, excitement, and uncertainty.

I wasn’t all too worried about how Emily would act. So far she’d been nothing but kind and gracious, and her beauty would do wonders expelling bad thoughts from the minds of judgemental people with deep pockets. But how would the rest of them perceive Emily? Would they view her the same way I did, or would they continue to question me all night? I could deal with all the interrogations myself, but the idea that others might try to make her uncomfortable shot nerves from my head to toes. Worst of all, I wondered if she would show up at all. Like I said before – meeting Hanna could be like a smack in the face. Perhaps she had told one too many stories and drove Emily off.

Of course I wasn’t giving Emily the credit she deserved, but these are the unpleasant thoughts that plague one’s mind while they must wait.

But all my worries were for nothing. I had thought of a lifetimes worth of concerns in what was perhaps a few minutes of waiting, but they all vanished from my mind when I saw her on top that grand staircase.

And Hanna had truly outdone herself.

The dress was a rich royal blue and made of silk (as practically every evening dress was back in those days). A single strap crossed from one side of her breast over the opposite shoulder. The sleeves were narrow, reaching to half way down her forearm, and a black belt curved around the bodice. The dress was rather innovative for its time, with very little lace and beading to accompany it. The underskirt was slim, not allowing the gown to bunch at the base. Most importantly, there was one key difference that the dress’s simplicity held to all others in that room: it was about drawing attention to the beauty of the wearer, not the dress itself.

And I couldn’t tear my eyes away.

Emily glided down the stairs, her arm linked with Hanna’s. They were both smiling widely, looking intensely towards me. I cleared my throat and met them at the bottom of the stairs.

“Well, Alison, what do you think?” Hanna burst before I could even greet them.

“I’ve never been more impressed with your work, Hanna.” I replied, though it was a challenge to look away from Emily to say it, especially with those eyes staring at me.

“Thank you. It’s one of my new designs, I am going to announce it in Vogue’s next issue.”

_That_ truly shocked me. “Wait…you haven’t announced this design yet?” Hanna shook her head. I frowned. “You never allow your designs to be worn before you’ve released them commercially.”

Hanna turned to Emily who smiled in return. “Well I was going to give her that lace black dress I made Spencer wear last year but…after talking to her for a while I wanted to give her something a bit more special.” She smiled a wicked smile, released Emily’s arm and began to walk away from us. But not before giving me one last glance. “After all, she is quite _special_ isn’t she, Alison?”

Hanna left us in our own whirlwind of tension, uncertainty and confusion. Emily clearly didn’t know how to react to Hanna’s comments, and I was too busy agreeing with it over and over in my head while berating myself for not questioning Hanna’s tone.

In times like that, there really is only one thing left to say.

“Hi,” Emily said.

“Hi.” I smiled.

Emily scrunched up her face, looked down to her toes then back up to me. “Do I really look okay?”

I took a breath. “Mermaids couldn’t compare.” Emily beamed, and there was nothing I could do to keep my own grin off my face. “Don’t worry Emily, you are in good hands tonight. I will make sure everyone in that room thinks you are royalty.”

“I think I’ll settle for them thinking I’m your friend.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. “We can do that.”

She smiled. “Well then, my lady,” Emily nervously held her arm out towards me. “May I escort you to dinner?” I accepted her offer with a gently laugh and linked our arms together. My elbow was grazing her side, and I allowed it to linger.

I could feel the tremors running down her forearm as we walked into the dining room. I laid my palm on her wrist, attempting to reassure her with my gentle grip. Her pulse was racing, and her breaths were uneven. “Don’t worry, Em.” The nickname rolled smoothly off my tongue. Emily’s breath hitched. “Not a single person in this room will question that you are one of us.”

And they didn’t.

Before dinner I toured Emily around the room, introducing her to my world. Unsurprisingly, Emily was perfect. I hadn’t even given her proper guidelines on exactly how to act in first class, other than making sure to offer her hand when she was introduced. It’s fair to say I was a bit preoccupied with making sure I behaved myself so that Emily’s opinion of me wouldn’t differ while I was interacting with dignitaries and millionaires. Emily spoke very little to each person I introduced her to, unknowingly keeping her air of mystery, making her that much more alluring to others. However she also complimented each person she met, man or woman, each word sounding more genuine than the last. In hindsight, I was lucky I knew she was a lesbian during this time. My behaviour may have differed if I didn’t.

All the eyes in the room ventured to Emily at some point. The men were transfixed, which pissed the women off immensely. (They would have been mortified if they knew they felt threatened by a third class passenger). But most of them were too proud to come over and greet us, my parents included. I could see my mother and father standing to the side of the room, speaking to Veronica and Peter Hastings. My mother’s attention flickered to Emily and I every few seconds, studying us. It was another five minutes before I accepted that my mother would not be bothering to introduce herself to Emily. Unlike everyone else in the room, a pretty face had no effect on her.

But that was unacceptable to me. I needed to show her why Emily was worth the time, and why she deserved to be treated like every other rich dress and suit in that room. So arm in arm with Emily, I approached my parents.

Then when I stood before them, I said nothing, patronisingly staring at my mother.

Emily’s feet began to shift, the festering awkwardness practically torturing her (and her discomfort practically torturing me). My mother was unwilling to make the first move, I was unwilling to grovel for her approval, Emily was unwilling to speak out of turn, and finally, my father was unwilling to let the games continue.

“You look lovely tonight Alison,” he said, though it was void of any real affection. “Is this the young lady you’ve invited from third class?”

“Yes it is. Father, mother, please meet Emily fields. She went out of her way last night to help me.”

Emily bowed her head unnecessarily, though I could see my mother enjoying the subservient gesture.

“It is an honour to meet you.” Emily said. My father had the decency to kiss Emily’s hand, but my mother gave her nothing less than a merciless leer.

“You must be quite persuasive to make my daughter cause such a fuss.” She remarked.

I barred my teeth. My mother didn’t even attempt to hide her disapproval. I could feel Emily stiffen beside me, so I gave her arm a gentle squeeze. It seemed to encourage her.

“Honestly I’m not deserving of her time. You must be wonderful parents to raise such a kind and beautiful woman.”

I smiled. Emily was a master at killing others with kindness. It worked on me after all.

My father smiled genuinely, but my mother’s lips twisted like a snake trying to unravel itself. She obviously believed nothing that came from Emily’s mouth, and how could she? With Alison Dilaurentis for a daughter, my mother had gone the last sixteen years wondering what all my ulterior motives were. Eventually those instincts bleed into all other relationships. Why would this third class intruder be any different?

“Well,” my mother started. “I hope you enjoy your _brief_ stay in first class. Don’t try to eat too much of the delicious food, we still want you fitting into that dress by the end of the night.” My mother tugged on my father’s arm and pulled them away from us toward their table. Emily was frozen beside me, eyebrows raised, though thankfully her surprise didn’t seem to be accompanied with offence.

I, on the other hand, had never felt more offended in my life. And God himself wouldn’t have stopped me from getting the last word in.

She was only a few feet away, but I raised my voice as though my mother was across the room. “Oh mother, just so you know, I put your pills in the third drawer down. I needed more space for my perfume.” With a spin I dragged Emily, who was gawking at me, in the opposite direction, trying to hide my own satisfied grin from spectators. 

At this moment my mother likely wanted to throw me overboard. By the next day the gossip mongers would be talking about her possible illnesses, causing her to do some serious retconning. Of course, I was in for some future consequence, but I was too pleased to care.

“That was intense,” Emily said rather breathlessly into my ear.

I shrugged. “Just a regular Dilaurentis conversation. But I am sorry, Emily. I’d hoped she be a tad more civil.”

“It’s okay, I actually thought I’d get a lot more of that tonight anyway. Besides I wanted to meet your parents. As for your mother, I can see where you get your…”

“Awfulness?” I said offhandedly.

“…I was going to say strength.”

“Emily...your talent for seeing the good side of people is ridiculous.”

She shrugged. “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

Together we approached our table. The girls were already seated and Noel was looking toward me expectantly, angry that I hadn’t spoken to him yet. Noel was like a child – if you stopped paying attention to him he may start throwing a tantrum. Furthermore, he seemed irritated by our linked arms. Not that he expected anything scandalous, but he prided himself on being the only person to receive affection from me. My manner toward Emily would have startled everyone in the room that night, but Noel, beside my mother, was the only person who was truly perturbed by it.

“And here I was struggling to remember whether I had a fiancé or not,” Noel greeted.

Regrettably, I untangled my arm from Emily’s. “If I had known you’d miss me so much I would have paid you a visit.”

“A visit? Who am I? Your accountant?”

“Of course not. You’re so much more handsome than my accountant.”

He was trying his best to portray the conversation as playful banter, but his eyes had the gleam of a lion who had not been brought his supper. An infant could have sensed his frustration. But for all that, Noel still didn’t want anyone to see his life as anything but picture perfect. So he smiled his crooked smile, and when I kissed his cheek he leaned into it ever so slightly. Just enough to put on a show for those watching, but the tightness of his cheek was unmistakable. Beside me Emily cleared her throat, and I gave my best apologetic smile.

“Darling, this is Emily Fields.”

Noel turned his attention towards Emily, looking at her as if he had only just noticed her presence. ‘Ah yes.” He said. “Thank you for your assistance last night, Miss Fields. I hope you enjoy you dinner this evening.” And with that he turned away from us and began talking with Ezra. His dismissal of Emily could not have  been more obvious if he had shoved her out the dining room.

I had to fight the urge to slap him. For what Emily had done the previous night, he should have been serving her food and kissing her hands in thanks. I cursed my pride for not being able to tell him the truth. At least then Emily would have received the gratitude she deserved. But because of me, she seemed like nothing more than a hobby. His comment saddened Emily as well, who had now been insulted by the two most important people in my life. This was another moment where I thought she would realise that I was not worth her time, but when I looked back at her she just gave me a warm smile and pulled my chair out ever so slightly.

Anyone who was watching (which no doubt would have been half of the table) would have just figured she was compensating for Noel’s rudeness at not doing it himself. They would have had no idea why my cheeks flushed and why I had to look down at my feet as I thanked her. Although Hanna, I noticed, was watching far too intently, an invisible grin shining on her lips.

Dinner was passing by rather smoothly. Emily was seated between myself and Spencer, who had made it her mission to interrogate Emily about her time in Britain with Toby. A lot of people watched her as she interacted with Spencer, though most of the judgement had vanished from their gaze. Emily had charmed them all during the introductions – the three girls, and even Ezra, Caleb, and Mona. Everyone had fallen victim to those soft, kind eyes, so all my worries of a strenuous dinner evaporated.

I spent most of my time itching to bring her attention back to me, and Emily seemed to sense my irritation. Her intermittent smiles did well to quell my urges.

It was for the best – Noel might have flipped the table if I didn’t give him my undivided attention.

When our meals arrived everyone passed into staggered conversation. I watched Emily intently, who seemed to be watching everyone else eat for pointers. Her eyes wanted to devour the roast duck, but she took care to eat slowly and deliberately. I had to chuckle lightly at the display, which only made her more self-conscious. However when she reached the asparagus, Emily was wincing like she was in pain with every bite she took.

“Em, you don’t have to eat it if you don’t like it,” I said.

She turned to me in surprise. “I thought it would be rude to leave food on your plate?”

I scoffed. “On the contrary, finishing it is nontraditional.” I moved my mouth close to her ear. “You’re not an uptight first-class prick if you don’t criticise at least one thing about the chef’s cooking.”

Emily laughed. “That would be hypocritical of me. I’m an atrocious cook. You should try my empanadas.”

Mona interrupted our banter from the other side of the table (not surprisingly just when I got my turn to converse). “So, Emily! I am dying to hear about the events of last night that brought you to us.” Mona’s voice rose so loud, it caught the attention of the entire table. There wasn’t a single eye that wasn’t drawn to Emily – some inquisitive, some threatening, some kind, and some uncaring. Emily, bombarded by the sudden attention curled her fingers in her lap. She turned her head towards me, mouth agape with a response ready to fire, but she first wanted my approval. I nodded my head.

“Well I must admit it’s not a very exciting story. I just happened to be the one to see Alison fall down. So I did what any decent human being would do.” Emily said.

A wave of guilt crashed upon me for forcing her to lie. Her rushed yet nonchalant tone indicated she was clearly uncomfortable talking about the subject.

Emily took a huge gulp of water while Mona tilted her head questioningly, a sight which caused back-flips in my stomach. Out of everyone at the table, Mona was most certainly the smartest. If anyone were to expose the lies of my story, it would be her.

“You don’t realise how lucky you are to see that sight. I’m not even sure Alison has ever tripped in her entire life.”

Emily forced out a chuckle, then cleared her throat. “Well I certainly feel lucky.” Mona was about to push forward, but Emily hurtled her next sentence out so fast I thought she might have had a panic attack. “Honestly I’d prefer to hear about you Miss Vandaarwaal. Hanna has told me a bit about your endeavours. You must be a very intelligent woman considering how fast you broke into the business together.”

Mona balked, caught on uneven ground by Emily’s compliment. I beamed. It would be difficult for Mona to steer the conversation back to what was obviously a false story after such kind words. Besides, she had an ego that liked to be stroked.

After a moment, Mona responded. “And you’ve been able to survive the company of Alison Dilaurentis. I can’t even find the words to praise that achievement.”

“Mona…” I warned.

“I jest.” Mona said flippantly, though Emily looked desperate for a rebuttal. “Honestly Alison has done wonderful work for the company. As demanding as she can be sometimes.” Mona smiled deviously toward me.

“Yes, yes. Pretty clothes and pretty pictures.” Noel said with disinterest and a wave of his hand. “As you can obviously tell, my fiancé likes to surround herself with _pretty_ things.” His eyes darted momentarily toward Emily, though not fast enough. Everyone on the table caught the look and understood his meaning.

Emily was a prize.

Emily was here to make me look better.

Emily meant nothing to me.

Most members of the table shifted uncomfortably, the sound of legs brushing chairs and people swallowing filling the air.

But me?

I snapped.

“This _pretty_ thing saved your fiancé’s life last night from two men who attacked her! Perhaps you should show some gratitude!”

The table fell completely silent. Everyone was staring, half in anticipation and half in shock, as if they were witnessing the unveiling of a new invention. And to be fair, it was something they'd never seen before.

Even I was stunned. It wasn’t a line I’d ever crossed. Until that point Noel and I were like antiques encased in glass. Beautiful, coveted, and perfect to the naked eye. Not to mention, well enclosed so that no one could get close enough to see our imperfections. We worked tirelessly on our image, stroking each other’s egos. There was no better way to secure our reputation’s immortality. A high reputation was useful, but could never be used to promote oneself. Not properly anyway. But when it comes from another, all issues of bias are taken out of the equation. So Noel and I had acted as marketing coordinators for each other.

This was the first time I had ever tarnished that image. And the entire table knew that.

Even Emily understood the magnitude of what I had done. Her hand drifted over to my leg under the table. She didn’t squeeze or pat my leg, but simply allowed her hand to lay there for a few moments. It was so tender I could feel her gratitude and affection sinking through the touch. In my periphery, I saw her bright  eyes shine. Suffice to say, I dared not look into her piercing gaze, afraid of what I might find.

It’s difficult to describe just how expressive Emily could be with a single look. Much like a glorious sunset, describing the gradients of colours just would never be an appropriate way to depict the experience.

But I’m a storyteller, so I suppose I should still attempt it.

It’s much like the eyes of a baby before they learn to speak. Other than wailing, the baby can only communicate with its mother through its eyes. Hunger, love, sadness. And the mother knows exactly which one the baby is feeling. That’s what Emily’s eyes were like. Behind them was all her knowledge and every memory and emotion she’d ever felt. It was like an archive. She brought whatever she needed in the moment to those dark brown circles for all the world to see.

Why is that relevant? Well, because even though I did not meet her eyes, with a single look, I know that this was the moment that Emily Fields found herself hopelessly tethered to me.

The silence stretched on and on as Noel tried to find the appropriate response. He was furious, of course, but to respond that way would be to punch more cracks in our image. Yet he couldn’t allow my comments to slide, as that would be viewed as a weakness. I was still, in society’s eyes, his subservient fiancé. And finally, there was the revelation that I had been attacked.

“Well…” he began firmly, “perhaps if my fiancé were honest with me, I could react appropriately to these issues.”

I looked down in shame, accepting the aggression of his comment. There was no way for me to burrow out of the hole I had dug for myself without coming out covered in dirt.

Noel slammed his knife down on the table. I had never seen a gesture so hostile look so methodical. “Who attacked you? I’ll have Wilden arrest them immediately.”

I shook my head. “No, please. I’d prefer to put the whole incident behind me. Besides, they were quite well handled last night.” I smiled warmly at Emily, and she smiled bashfully in return.

“Wait…are you trying to say that Emily dealt with two drunk guys?” Hanna asked from across the table, much to Noel’s annoyance.

Emily looked expectantly back to me, and I gestured my hand out with an extravagant flourish, indicating for her to continue. I almost felt bad in putting Emily on the spot considering how nervous she seemed, but the truth was that I couldn’t help but feel curious at how she would answer. Besides, my pride was already lost. The least I could do was make her look as good as possible.

“It wasn’t a big deal really,” Emily said dismissively, which had many scoffing. In the first class world, humility was hard to come by. “Two men wanted to steal Alison’s diamond so I stepped in and got them to stop.”

“Oh don’t leave out the good details Emily.” My gaze slid from one side of the table to the other, and I gave my tone some extra colour. “She fought them both at the same time and won! With barely two punches and a kick.”

Everyone’s faces lit up in astonishment (except for Noel, who knew that the better Emily looked the worse it would be for him). Caleb went as far as to clap his hands together. Aria even hollered.

"They were drunk, it really wouldn't be difficult for anyone," Emily said.

“So you put your life at risk to help a stranger? Why didn’t you just call for an officer?” Noel asked, unable to keep the slight suspicion from his tone. Many eyes rolled.

“In that moment I was the only one there, so it was my responsibility to ensure Alison’s safety.” Emily replied confidently, meeting the intensity of Noel’s stare.

“Responsibility? For a first class passenger?”

Emily’s eyes lost their focus for a few moments. I could see the wheels turning as she constructed her reply in her mind. Everyone waited patiently.

“We’re different...but we are all human, and I was raised to believe that we all have a responsibility to help each other. While tonight has been amazing, and yes, most of the things in this room are a reminder of things I can’t ever have…” I would have missed Emily’s eyes flicker to me if I wasn’t so focused on her. “…But at the end of the day they are just things. They don’t change who I am, or who anyone is for that manner. We all have the capacity for kindness, what separates us is the choices we make. And if want to make this world a better place than that’s exactly where we have to start. If that means helping strangers, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

This time, almost the whole table gave a quick and quite applause, save for myself and Noel. Noel for the obvious reasons.

But me? Well...let's just say that from this moment onward, I knew that I was completely, unreservedly, utterly  _screwed_.

After a round of compliments from the table, I raised my glass. “To Emily Fields.”

Emily raised her glass last.

“To strangers,” she said.

The clink of our glasses was like the final note of a symphony.

* * *

 The rest of dinner consisted mostly of Emily being interviewed about her life, which was fine by me. It gave me a chance to just watch her as she interacted with the table, although I also noticed that both Hanna and Noel were thoroughly observing the two of us. I tried to ignore Noel’s stare, since his anger was a consequence I wanted to distract myself from, however Hanna’s endless sly smiles were disconcerting.

Eventually the questions ran out…actually more like Noel’s patience had run out (though the fact the Mona had to leave half way through did help to eliminate much of the chatter). He gathered Ezra and Caleb, and the three boys excused themselves from the table. As he left, Noel bent down and whispered in my ear, with a tone sharper than a carving knife.

“We’ll talk about what happened later.”

Emily stiffened next to me, but I made no indication that I knew she had heard. I didn’t want her to feel responsible for any problems between myself and Noel, but since I couldn’t even convince myself that was true, I felt it was better left alone.

“Well, I’m exhausted,” Spencer said the moment the boys were out of earshot. She looked at me with a raised eyebrow. “That dinner was more exciting than I expected.”

I smiled unpleasantly. “Then perhaps you should go to bed. Read a book.”

Spencer clicked her tongue in annoyance.

“Actually,” Emily said, “It’s probably time I head back as well.”

“Oh no, Emily, please stay. We’ve so enjoyed getting to know you,” Aria said kindly.

“That’s very nice of you, but I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

All three of the girls looked genuinely disappointed, and my heart dropped as I realised my time with Emily was approaching its end. Suddenly my fingertips felt sweaty, and everyone else in the room seemed to fade away.

“Well then, let’s all get a picture together before you go. To mark this occasion.” I blurted out. Hanna, Aria and Spencer hummed and nodded in eager agreement. “Hanna, where is that photographer that follows you around with his tail wagging?”

Hanna rolled her eyes, but nevertheless went looking for the photographer. While she searched and Spencer and Aria were distracted, Emily leaned towards me.

“Well, actually, I was hoping to not quite say goodbye yet.”

I could feel the pulse of my heart beat pumping down my forearms. “Is that so?” I said with a quirked eyebrow.

She gulped. I always loved to make people nervous and uncomfortable, but Emily was a special pleasure in that regard. The way she squirmed while building courage was adorable and charming, and I worked extra hard to pay attention to how each muscle in her face seemed to be struggling against itself.

“Um…well actually…I was wondering if you were still interested in seeing the dark and mysterious of third class?”

I was interested in anything she was willing to show me.

“What did you have in mind?” I asked.

“Well I could tell you, or it could actually be mysterious.” She smiled cunningly.

“I have always loved a good secret.”

Hanna marched back towards us, the photographer in tow. The four of us rose from the table and stood together.

“Thanks Lucas,” Hanna said, patting the photographer on the back. He staggered from the touch as if it was a kiss. The five of us then morphed into a semi-circle – Aria, Hanna and Spencer taking the automatic steps to place me in the centre.

You see, growing up with the four of us as friends, you will not find a photograph where I am not positioned to be the focus of the image. Even though we were an even number, somehow all the pictures still emphasised me as the most important member of the group. And yes, that’s how I wanted it to be. If I haven’t made it clear by this point – I loved attention. I still do, I’m just less pedantic about it.

This photograph is the first time I ever surrendered that place. There was nothing I wanted focused on more than the beauty and grace of the woman who saved my life. The woman who somehow had become more important to me than anything else in my life in the span of a day.

“Emily, come stand in the middle,” I said, stepping widely aside to make room. “You’re the guest of honour.”

For the fiftieth time the other girls looked at me like I was an alien. But I chose to focus on Emily’s thankful smile.

Together we stood, arms hanging straight down our side until I felt Emily’s hand on my lower back. The touch was tentative; questioning. I answered the hesitation with a firm lean backwards, and stretched my own hand out to touch her hip. Emily inhaled sharply, while I stopped breathing all together. Though our stance must have been casually noticed by one of the others, as suddenly I felt Spencers arm across my upper back. Soon enough we were all standing with our arms around each other, like women who were attending the races as a group for the twentieth time.

Lucas held the camera to his face and grinned. “Say Titanic!”

* * *

 “You’d think from this picture that you were all the best of friends,” Lilly said as she studied the photograph, squinting to pick up all the minor details.

“Perhaps in another lifetime we would have been,” Alison replied. Her hands were folded in her lap, her eyes unfocused, staring at the legs of the table.

Lilly puffed out a breath. “Honestly I’m still reeling from the whole Emily Fields of it all.”

“Yes…I must ask for your patience. That explanation I can only give at the end of this story. I am sorry for my speed,” Alison said. “I’ve buried these memories for so long that it truly does feel like I’m at an archaeological dig.” Tanner passed Alison a cup of water. She drank it slowly, regenerating her voice.

“I can’t believe we’ve never heard about Emily before,” Grace said. “Not even Spencer, Aria or Hanna ever mentioned her.”

Alison coughed a few times, passing the empty cup back to Tanner. “Well, would you tell me the tragic story of your best friend? Even if she never spoke of it herself?”

“No, I suppose not.” Grace shifted against the table.

Alison then took the photograph back out of her granddaughter’s hand. “When we took this photo I was getting the only thing I had to remember her by. At the time I'd intended to keep it as a memento. A part of me knew I would not be seeing her again after the Titanic docked in New York. I just thought it would be for a different reason." Alison sighed and laid the photograph face down on the table. "Mrs Tanner, I would give you the heart of the ocean ten times over for this photograph.” She closed her eyes, took a breath, and then opened them, a new determination glimmering in her eyes. “But alas, I only have my story to give you. And what comes next was one of the best nights of my life.

I’m guessing when you think of the first time you felt true elation, you may think of your first Christmas, riding your bike alone, getting an A on a test. But I felt true unbridled joy for the first time when I danced with Emily Fields below deck on the Titanic.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I profusely apologise for the delay on this one. Just as I was on a roll, my life went crazy. Cliff notes version: wisdom teeth extraction, injuries in both legs and two places in the arm, and job applications. Now I'm working on three writing projects at once. Will do my best to get these chapters out quickly.
> 
> Song of the chapter is Into the Wilderness by Early Hours. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dto42DrgkiM


	5. Devil's Dance Floor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alison experiences Emily's world

Unwilling to repeat the events of the previous night, I handed the diamond off to Hanna, and then Emily and I headed out of the dining hall. Once we were well clear of first class, I saw Emily release a huge breath, her back relaxing like a puppet whose strings had been dropped. Her steps recovered their natural spring, and her arms began to swing freely once more. It made me realise just how much she had been concerned about dinner. 

“Everyone loved you tonight, Em,” I reassured her. She raised her eyebrows and gave me a playful look. “What?” I asked. 

“Well, firstly, that’s about the fifth time you’ve called me that. And secondly, I don’t think our definition of  _everyone_ is the same.” 

“You don’t like the name?” 

“No I like it!” She exclaimed, a little too quickly. “It’s just always been Emily, or Emmy if you’re my parents. So…it’s new.” 

“Good. I’d prefer to not be like everyone else.” 

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Emily replied, snapping her head away so I wouldn’t see the blush on her face.  

I did.  

Unfortunately, she didn’t allow me to ignore her latter point. 

“I’m sorry for the trouble I caused you,” she said earnestly. “The last thing I wanted was to be a burden.” 

“Em,” I said forcefully, pinching her elbow. “Nothing that happened tonight was your fault.” 

“You were coming to my defence.” 

“And my fiancé was being a bastard,” I said, as though it was something I said every day with my morning coffee.  “I told you I'd look out for you.” 

“Still, I know you didn’t want them to know that you had to be saved by…well, someone like me.” 

I froze in the middle of the hallway with a harsh frown. “Wait. Is that why you think I didn’t want them to know?” 

Emily turned, looking guilty in response to the look of offence on my face. She shrugged bashfully. “It’s understandable.” 

I stepped towards her. “Emily, no. Look…”  

A couple rudely stepped between us, only slightly delayed by their bewilderment at what appeared to be two first class ladies in steerage; and then continued on. 

I sighed. “Don’t get me wrong, being seen as indestructible is great. The reason people walk in the opposite direction when they see me coming is because they fear me, which has many advantages,” I added with a mischievous smile in response to Emily’s disapproving (but playful) glare. “And that’s an image I want to preserve. One where no one can challenge or try to hurt me and win. That image was damaged by those two men last night, not by you.” 

“Still, I know you wanted to keep you pride…” 

“My  _pride_ will be fine in the morning.” I linked my arm through hers and dragged her even faster down the hallway. “And now that it’s out there, I have a feeling that I’ll be telling the story of how Emily Fields saved me for a _very_  long time.”

* * *

If you’d told fifteen year old Alison that she would be feeling an adrenaline rush at the idea of spending time in steerage, she may have had you arrested for blasphemy. But the closer we got to the pounding drums and the whistling and the sounds of glasses slamming against tables, the faster my heart began to beat. It felt like I was approaching the wild; about to enter into a world of animals and rules that I couldn’t begin to understand, but that I was curious to learn about. Usually curiosity wouldn’t be enough to do something like that, but it was Emily’s world. I had to learn it all, and there was just so much to see. 

When we walked into the room, I couldn’t even hear myself breathe. There was dancing in all corners, like the designated dance floor just didn’t exist. Even more than dancing there was stumbling, drinks spilling left and right. I couldn't tell if the room seemed bigger or smaller than it actually was. There was so many people that you could barely walk without brushing up against someone, and yet people moved as though they stood alone on a football field. The air smelt so strongly of alcohol that if I wasn’t so adept at holding my liquor, the aroma itself may have been enough to intoxicate me. Even the children were zig-zagging amongst it all, some without shoes. I wondered how many times their feet would be trodden on before they realized how bad an idea that would be.

Everything I saw was like seeing a piece of an impressionist jigsaw puzzle. The sights, the smells, the laughter, the constant physical touches (whether loving or brawling) – this was behavior I had ridiculed my entire life. But it was different to seeing one person spit on the sidewalk. This was a culture, a way of living. And looking around the room, I couldn’t see a single face that wasn’t smiling. No one cared if anyone was watching, if _I_   was watching, and no one acted to please in audience. It was jarring, and yet I yearned to understand what that felt like.

Emily was transfixed on me, trying to gauge exactly what I thought of the place. I kept my face impassive, studying it like it was a new home I was scouting. In reality I was very self-conscious, aware that whatever I said or did in this moment would matter to Emily, and I didn't want to disappoint her. 

 I turned to a still anxious Emily, but before I could speak a voice called out. 

“Emily!” Toby shouted, squeezing through jumping bodies to get to us. A red scarf was slung over his shoulder, and his trousers were identical to almost every other man's in the room. He looked us both up and down, wearing a look on his face somewhere between bewildered, cautious, and impressed. “Wow. Emily, you look beautiful.” She blushed. He then nodded towards me, almost unwillingly. “As do you, Miss Dilaurentis.” 

“Thank you, Toby,” I said, genuinely surprised by his compliment, but not by his reluctance to give it. 

Emily smiled. “I thought I’d bring Alison here and show her dark underbelly of steerage.” 

Toby turned to me. “Well, I hate to tell you this, Alison, but if you intend to stay a while it’s going to be hard to avoid getting stains on that dress.” 

“I have more than one,” I bit back, not willing to have to go through his judgement  _again._  

Toby’s eyebrows shot upward. “Well…things have indeed changed since our first meeting.” 

“Oh crap.” Emily cut in with a stricken expression. “Should I change before I stain Hanna’s dress?” 

“She’ll be fine.” I replied firmly. Hanna would probably have been mortified at the idea, and if a stain did get on there, I’d be hearing about it for years. But it looked too damn good on Emily that I would have been grieved to see her change out of it.  

“I really would never have expected you to come down here,” Toby said, trying to reiterate his previous point. 

“I’d never turn down a promise of adventure.” I looked at Emily and smiled. She smiled warmly back.

Toby eyes darted between us before he cleared his throat. “Well then. Have fun adventuring. I’m going to go over there and…dance by myself.”  

Emily laughed as Toby made his way past us, disappearing into the crowds. She then twisted to face me. 

“Can I get you anything? An ale, or cider? Do first class people even drink ale?” 

“When no one’s looking, mostly because wine tastes like horse piss.” Emily’s eyes opened wide in shock at my language, and I reveled in it. “A cider is fine, thank you.” 

“Alright, be right back.” With a quick touch to my shoulder she left to get our drinks. As she walked away I saw two girls approaching her fondly, marveling at her dress and speaking as though they were the oldest of friends. Though she was friendly in return, Emily’s body was constantly leaning away from the two, clearly intent on grabbing drinks and trying to get back to me as soon as possible. My lips quirked happily knowing that I was Emily’s first priority. 

When she left my sight I took the time to look at the characters around me. On the stage, the band was tapping their feet and yelling random words of cheer. Although, I observed that one of the band members, a young girl playing the flute, had her eyes glued to the floor and didn’t seem to take notice of anyone else. I stepped closer, trying to see what was so captivating on the wooden stage, only to notice a blank stare in her eyes. 

I blinked furiously. The last thing I expected to find in third class was a blind musician. 

Well, maybe not the last, but you get my point. 

I looked around some more. In the corner two men were standing chest to chest, noses almost touching and spit practically foaming at the mouth. As far as I could make out, one of them had knocked over the other’s drink, and the other had said something defamatory about his mother in response.  

Quite close by I saw two men, their faces buried behind hands of cards with a pile of coins and bills laid out in the center of the table. Then one of them lowered their hand, placing his cards face up on the table, and I gasped. 

It was them. Lorenzo and Wren, the two men who had attacked me the previous night. On reflex, I brought my hand to my neck, checking that the diamond wasn’t still hanging there. A rational person would have walked away, or at least used the vibrant crowd to hide themselves. Not that one could effectively hide in a dress like mine. But all I could do was stare and watch them as my muscles tightened and red hot anger pulsed through my body. 

“Here you go,” Emily broke me from my fervor as she handed me the drink, and I accepted it without a word, downing half the glass in a matter of seconds. She gawked at me while I returned my eyes to the two men. She followed my gaze and within a single drum beat she became a livid herself. 

“Damn it,” Emily said. She brought her hand to her forehead and squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m so sorry, Alison. I should have known they’d be here.” Her guilt became mine when I heard her tone. “I’d be happy to grab a guard, or take you back upstairs if you’d like?” 

My feelings at that moment were an oxymoron of sorts. On one hand, Emily being that protective of me was something I could deal with for the rest of my life, but on the other I was repulsed by her pity.

Not that I think Emily truly pitied anyone, more that her urge to help others was a natural instinct. Still, the possibility bothered me;  because pity eradicates all possibility of respect, and the last thing I wanted was for Emily to think I was helpless. 

I snapped my head back toward her. “No. Don’t be ridiculous. This night isn’t getting ruined by idiotic buffaloes. Besides…” I finished my drink, and slammed it down on a nearby table. “I have a better idea.”  

I raised my chin and plastered a glowing smile on my face before marching in a straight line towards the two men. I didn’t side step anyone, nor did I look away. Emily hastily followed behind, words of no particular meaning tumbling out of her mouth in confusion and worry.  

Lorenzo was the one who spotted me first, leaping straight up out of his seat like a startled leopard. Wren mimicked him shortly after, both looking at me with wide terrified eyes.  

I gave my best hearty laugh, my hands waving out in front of me.  

“Gentlemen, gentlemen, please sit back down. I’m not here to cause trouble.” 

They both lowered themselves slowly, still unblinking, suspicious, and terrified. 

“Uh…look, Miss, we…last night…” Wren began to bumble. I was tempted to listen to him stutter for half an hour, enjoying the absolute fear tainted in his voice and all the petrified silences in between. But this was business, and I only intended to be in their company until that business was concluded, because that was all the time they were allowed to rob me of my time with Emily. Emily, who was still standing nervously behind me, but I could feel the touch of her finger against my back. This, more than the guards at the top of the stairs, and more than the crowds of witnesses around us made me feel protected against my two attackers. 

“Really, boys. The events of last night are long forgotten.” I said with a sickening grin, one they mistook for genuine kindness. “My friend here...” I smiled to Emily, who smiled uncertainly back. “...Wanted to show me the festivities of third class, and I was particularly interested in your little card game.” I indicated my chin toward the pile of money. “Are you playing for cash?” 

My demeanor seemed to work in calming them, Lorenzo’s fist unclenching and Wren feeling comfortable enough to lean a bit further back. 

“We always like to play with higher stakes,” Lorenzo said, his predatory smile making me want to vomit.  

“That’s just my type of game,” I replied, taking my seat at the head of the table. Emily immediately moved as well, standing just in front of my left shoulder and placing herself between myself and the two men. Her pitbull-like protectiveness sent thrills up my spine. I quickly took a peek at her. She was glaring mercilessly at Wren and Lorenzo, her eyes hot and threatening. This wasn’t an Emily I had seen yet, not even the previous night. This Emily was dangerous and unyielding, and those thrills that went up my body went straight back down, and I felt something completely new. 

I turned away from her, focusing back onto the table. I reached into my corset, pulling out a handful of bills. “Will this be enough?” 

Lorenzo eyes went wide, and he eagerly moved to take the money from my hands. Before he could grab the bills, Emily’s hand shot out and gripped his wrist tightly, making him grimace. He shot an angry look at her, but his ferocity wavered when he saw those stormy eyes.

“Don’t...touch her,” She ordered, and he withdrew immediately.  

I swooned. “Easy killer.” I placed my hand gently on her wrist. Emily slowly let go, still not looking away from Lorenzo. “We’re just here for some fun. Isn’t that right, boys?” 

They both murmured in agreement, but Emily stayed silent. She was a hunter, just waiting for an excuse to strike.

“So,” I began again. “How do I play?” 

Of course I knew exactly what they were playing – you don’t spend years flirting with rich men without learning how to play poker. But Lorenzo and Wren would have assumed me the uneducated, pretty housewife. And that was just perfect for me. 

It was a struggle to listen to them explain to me the rules like I was a five year old. But I listened and smiled and nodded along. Emily, however, remained silent the whole time, her hip still reassuringly standing in front of my shoulder. 

Then we began to play. I spent the first few rounds making the others feel relaxed. I pursed my lips, frowned, and asked the occasional oblivious question. When Wren answered gently, I placed my face in my hand and smiled at him. 

“Well aren’t you just a diamond?” 

He laughed uncomfortably.

I had to be careful not to overstep, but I also needed to keep enough money to stay in the game until I got the perfect hand. I bluffed a few times, and by the third time began to give them small indicators of how I would bluff. My left eyebrow would twitch, and I would blink a few times too many. They were watching, and I knew it. So I lost. I lost enough times that I had to add even more money, which caused them to reach into their pockets even deeper. I could see the twinkle in their eyes. Both boys were imagining a near future with mansions and women with jewels. 

All I had to do was wait. And I didn’t have to wait long. 

When I picked up the final card to complete my flush, I made the smallest disappointed grimace, and then covered myself quickly. Lorenzo’s lips quirked victoriously. I looked at both men as they waited for me to complete my bet. Like every time I'd bluffed before, my left eyebrow twitched, and I blinked five times. 

“Well, I think I’ll just go all in,” I said confidently, though I added a slight tremble to my hand. My smile was nervous as they both matched, trying not to seem overeager.  

Then I revealed my cards, and the sparkle of their eyes went out like a candle in a hurricane. Their cards dropped out of their hands and onto the table, and I brought a hand to my chest in mock astonishment. 

“Wait…that means I’ve won doesn’t it?” I looked to Emily, eager to share the moment with her, and she covered her mouth with her hand to prevent the others from hearing her snickers. I turned back to the boys, who were both staring at the money in devastation. I stood from my chair and began to gather the bills toward me. 

“So this is all mine, right? Wow, maybe I can now buy that pony I wanted.” 

“Wait!” Lorenzo said desperately as he thrust his arm out. “One more game! Please!” 

Finally, I allowed my smile to fade, and my eyes turned dark with contempt. “And you’ll bet with what? Will you try and steal jewelry to cover your bet?” 

Lorenzo shriveled in his chair, and Wren froze in shock, both finally realising they’d been played. 

I pouted. “Tell you what. If you leave this place right now, I’ll make sure you aren’t arrested for attempted rape. How’s that for a deal?” I shuffled the remaining coins back toward them. “I’ll even give you some money back so you can share a beer tomorrow before you sleep in the gutters of New York.” 

Their bodies were screaming with rage. Wanting to erupt in anger, but unable to do so, they both just sat there in stasis.  

Until Emily bent over towards them. 

“That was a generous offer. Get out. Or I will throw you out.” She hissed. 

Without a shred of pride in their bodies, the two men left, erasing the only stain of poison in a room of happy feet and happier smiles. Even I, in that moment, felt that I belonged in that room, a smile adorning my features that put the rest to shame. Emily, however, looked at me with a reprimanding frown, and I challenged her with the raise of my brow. 

“What?” 

“Did you  _have_  to do that?” 

“No one  _has_  to do anything, but I like to settle my own debts.” 

Emily rolled her eyes, but I could see that she was fighting a grin. “So what will you do now that it’s been settled?” 

I flicked the money between my fingers thoughtfully; then I presented it before her. “Give it to someone who actually deserves it.”  

Emily balked, glowering at  me. “If I didn't take your money as payment last night, what makes you think I will now?” 

I shook my head vigorously. "Don't think of it as payment, think of it as a gift. And if there is truly nothing you can think of to spend it on, then perhaps I have a suggestion for you." 

She smiled playfully. "Oh do you?" 

I nodded arrogantly. "Come visit me in America."  

Emily inhaled sharply, looking to her feet, and a jolt of fear widened my eyes. It just couldn't be an option to never see her again. "Alison..." 

I took a deep breath. “I don’t want this voyage to be the last we see of each other. Whatever it takes, a train, a ship - spend this money on that.”  

Emily wanted to, that much was obvious. Her hesitation was born from doubt, the same doubt that was making me behave so recklessly. But I knew she couldn't refuse. Even if Emily was so different to anyone I'd ever met, I still knew how to read people.

She reached her hand out hesitantly. "Okay then." Emily tucked the money into her dress, before raising those reprimanding eyes back to mine. “Can you at least warn me next time you do something like that?” 

I grinned mischievously, ignoring her request. “How did you know I was messing with them?”  

“How did you know I knew?” 

“Because you would have dragged me out of the room if you didn’t.” I tilted my head. “Now answer my question.” 

She sighed. “Alison, if there’s anything I’ve learnt about you it’s that you never go into anything without a plan.” 

I laughed. “Then why, pray tell, am I here?” 

* * *

 It was entrancing to watch Emily dance. She moved so smoothly, arms flowing in tune with her legs, her back bending at the perfect angles. I imagined water surrounding her, because that’s what it looked like. Like there were no barriers; like she could move without worrying about gravity. 

Sometimes someone would dance with her, men and women alike. When that happened I tried to focus on the movements of her body, not on how her partners always smiled like they were the best of friends and more. Emily would constantly glance back toward me, eyes asking me to join her. But how could I? I wasn't one of them. My presence downstairs was already akin to a mathematician in a theatre. 

Emily walked over to me ten minutes later.  

"You know, if you really want to experience a culture you should try joining it for a bit." 

"I prefer to watch people," I replied, cradling my face in my hands. "Helps me learn." 

Emily scoffed as she took a drink from her ale. "I'd believe that if you were actually watching anyone else." 

I froze, trying to come up with a witty response to rebut her claim, but finding myself unable to do so. 

_This_  Emily was different from what I'd seen so far. There was a new confidence - an absence of fear. I could see that Emily felt she belonged dancing on the unpolished floors among the drunks and the rags and the bagpipes. There was no second guessing, no shyness, and not a tense muscle in her body. Almost like she morphed into a new person just by walking a few decks down. 

And no, I don't mean in a split personality sort of way. More like there was a dormant Emily underneath her shy demeanor. Previously I thought they were just bursts - instances of extreme passion or feeling. But after walking into third class, it was only becoming more and more present, like a flower in blossom. I couldn't deny it, third class looked good on this woman. I wanted to see her laughing and dancing freely, saying whatever she wanted without fear of judgement.

Especially if that meant putting me on the spot a few times. 

"I wasn't looking at you," I quipped. Emily raised her eyebrow disbelievingly. "I’m just very impressed by the blind girl playing the flute behind you.” 

“Oh!" Emily exclaimed, her will to banter quickly discarded. "That’s Jenna, Toby’s sister. I’m glad you can see her like this. She becomes different when she is playing.” 

“Different?” 

“Well, happy mostly. If you meet her in any other situation she can be a bit…intense.” 

"Then I can understand why she's Toby's sister." 

Emily gave a strained grin. "Yeah...about Toby. I just haven't had a chance to talk to him yet since this morning. I promise he will be politer next time." 

"Em, after meeting my parents and fiancé tonight, I wouldn't worry about it." I gave a reassuring smile. "But speaking of Toby, I haven't seen him since we arrived." 

Emily frowned, then twisted her body to start scanning the room. "Huh," Emily shrugged and turned back to me. "Well, he's never been one for parties." 

"I hope it wasn't me," I said, somewhat uncaringly. It was probably me, and I was glad. 

"Don't worry," Emily smiled mischievously. "Despite some of the stories that Hanna told me, I'm not sure you have that influence here yet." 

My entire face dropped. "What stories, exactly, did she tell you?" The question accidentally sounded like a panicked threat. 

Emily laughed at my reaction, taking another sip from her glass to emphasize her glee. "Oh, nothing too controversial. I just now know to stay away from you on Halloween." 

Embarrassment quickly flooded my - _Lily, Grace, stop laughing. Mrs Tanner doesn’t need to hear that story. And it’s not funny_ - 

I thumped my glass on the table. "She's a dead woman." 

Emily released a boisterous laugh before 'awing' in sympathy, patting my hand. It only made my glare intensify, though I could feel my resolve wavering. 

"You should thank her actually," Emily continued. "She said some pretty good things about you." 

I cocked my head in surprise. "Really?" Emily hummed. "Well she should. I've done a lot of good things for her." 

"Oh Ali..." Emily said, shaking her head in amusement. 

"Ali?" I said incredulously, my mouth hanging half open. It was a nickname everyone called me, but it was like I heard it for the first time.  

Emily rubbed the side of her face bashfully. "Sorry. You gave me a nickname, I thought I might...I dunno..." 

"Relax, Emily," I chided with a smile. "I'm just surprised." 

"By what?" 

I remained silent for a moment. How could I tell her what I had observed without seeming like a stalker? Emily seemed to lean closer with each passing second, her eagerness for me to answer written all over her features. 

"You know," I started, choosing to not answer directly. "When I saw you tonight at dinner I wanted to tell you just how much you looked like you belonged in first class. You were graceful, polite, beautiful, and everything they could want you to be." Emily ducked her head at my compliments. "But after seeing you here, the way you act, how comfortable and confident you are...I'm starting to understand the benefits of this lifestyle." 

Emily stared at me, exhaling through her nose in short breaths while she was deep in thought. I could see her hesitation to reply in the way her mouth seemed to struggle against itself, like a rusted lock that wouldn't open. Eventually, she looked to the table, then back at me. 

"You look different here too." 

I scoffed, scanning the room around me, then looking down at my dress and back at her. "Dirtier?" 

She shook her head. "Free. Like the world isn't on your shoulders anymore." 

I grinded my teeth at the insinuation. The world didn't sit on my shoulders. I sat on the world's shoulders. "I'm happy with my life." 

"I didn't say you weren't," she replied. "But you look more relaxed. And I've just noticed that everyone's been looking at you and you haven't really seemed to notice." 

Maybe I hadn't. There were more important things that deserved my attention. 

"Should I stand on stage and thank them for their attentiveness?" I said, habitually adding bite to my tone. 

"I just thought you'd bask in it a bit more." 

"Why would I? It's attention from beggars and chimney sweeps." 

I regretted the words before they even came out of my mouth, but I couldn't stop it. Defensive Alison was the most vicious of them all, as it was a sort of primal instinct. I had to shut my eyes momentarily in response to Emily's crestfallen expression. When I opened them again, she suddenly looked determined.  

"Em, I'm s..." 

"If you don't care what any of these people think," Emily stated as she rose from her seat. "Then there's no reason you can't dance with me." 

Emily held out her hand, resolute and unblinking. All thought of an apology dissipated from my mind. 

"Oh I don't think so." 

She cocked her head. "Why, are you scared?" 

My whole body seemed to stutter in response to her challenge. And that's what it mostly was – a challenge. Refusing would make me seem like a coward, but would also expose my lies. And I couldn't deny it, I wanted to dance with her. Her outstretched hand might has well have been holding a million dollars, that's how much I wanted to take it. And there would be nothing nefarious about it, it's not like we would have been the only ladies dancing with each other. Many good friends were at that very moment. Really, I could think no good reason to refuse (other than my confidence level, which would only be more damaged if I said no). 

The other reason that is obvious to you all now was easy to ignore. 

"You should know, Emily Fields," I took her hand and led her myself to the dance floor. "There is nothing in this world that could scare me." 

Being a fantastic liar comes in handy, because oh my, how I was terrified. When we stood just a foot apart on the dance floor I could feel my arms and legs betraying me, as if they were soldiers in my own army wanting to desert.  

I knew the waltz, foxtrot, and even a bit of a tango. A proper lady always took dance class so they could participate in the dalliances of rich men. But the way these people were moving – there were no rules. Nothing to guide me at all. Most of them were drunk, which did help ease my mind a bit. But then again, if drunk people looked better than me dancing, that would hardly be a success. 

The drums began to pound right as my heart did, because suddenly Emily's hand was on my waist and she brought our bodies so close that our breaths were practically merging. Suddenly I had too many thoughts at once. I wanted to focus on every single part of our bodies that were connected, but if I did that, I might have forgotten how to dance.

"You ready?" She asked, her delight failing to hide in her eyes. 

"Any tips? I'm afraid I'm not familiar with this style. What's it called? The Whiskey and Ale quickstep?" I joked. 

She smiled. "Basically. Don't worry, I'll lead. Just follow your own instincts...and step quick." 

I took the deepest breath I'd ever taken, and then Emily began to move. 

Have you ever seen children jumping up and down while they demand something? Because I'm positive that's what I looked like. Emily began to spin us around the room like a twister in a city. I was amazed that we didn't crash into anyone. The music was exhilarating – fast paced and demanding. But nothing made me feel more thrills then the look Emily gave me as we danced. Slowly a smile began to spread across her face, her merriment matching the joy of the music. I took turns glancing down at my feet then back to her for encouragement. 

"You're doing great, Ali," she shouted over the music. 

When she gave me that affirmation, I was finally able to let go of my own self-consciousness. A laugh burst from me like fireworks on New Years Eve. A true laugh: unrestrained and content. It must have been infectious, because soon Emily's own laughs were harmonizing with mine as we kept on spinning. I could have danced in that room for eternity, even though my shoe almost fell off four times and we were moving so fast that we almost clashed heads every three steps. But none of it mattered. The joy I was feeling being there with her, not having to worry about precise steps or impressing anyone brought a fog to everything I had ever feared. It felt so natural for our hands to be pressed together, our bodies to move as one. I could have been hyper aware of it all, but there was nothing else to be aware of but the happiness that sparkled in the eyes of my mermaid.  

Joy makes a person look so beautiful. A genuine smile is worth the worlds most extravagant gown, and eyes that dance is worth a thousand times more than tickets to the ballet. As I looked at Emily I felt a swell in my chest, like a rising tide on the shore. The warmth in her gaze spread through my body as I became absolutely lost in them. I was panting so hard, but I didn't think of stopping for a single moment.  

The music finally came to a stop, and thankfully Emily was paying enough attention to put a halt to both our bodies, pressed together with noses barely an inch apart. The band allowed the crowd to cheer for a moment before music began to sound again.

This time, however, it was Jenna playing alone on her flute. The melody was slow and beautiful, reminiscent of birds singing on a mountain top. Everyone began to sway and shut their eyes to the world, clinging to their partners and their children.  

All except Emily and I, who were caught frozen in our last position. The laughter had slowly faded away and we were left with nothing to say - only with our stares and our breaths. Suddenly everything seemed so overwhelming. The flute was too loud, the ale was being poured to harshly and the brightness of the lights was preventing me from properly seeing into those beautiful brown eyes.  I wanted to block it all out, to just see her. For it to just be us on that ship, and to lean in just that little bit more, so I could feel everything I wanted to feel.  

Her face inched that much closer, just as mine did. I was tempted to look at her lips, but my eyes just weren’t in my control anymore. Nothing was. My heart beat became dangerously erratic. Emily's eyes began to shut, and I began to raise my hand, intending to place it on her cheek. But once Emily's eyes fully closed and that intense gaze suddenly hid from mine did my mind finally take back control, like I had been released from a spell cast by her gaze. 

My head snapped back like an arrow, and I alarmingly scanned the room to see if anyone had noticed how close Emily and I had gotten. Just as before, they were all occupied with themselves, no one seeing the two girls on the dance floor who were both in a state of turmoil. Emily's eyes opened right as I looked back to her, and she mirrored my panic expression. Though I wouldn't dare assume it was for the same reason. 

Despite the way my arms trembled and my breath hastened, I managed to force a wide (somewhat panicked) smile. Emily's eyes were wider than I'd ever see them, and her chest moved so deeply that it looked like she had just swam across the Atlantic Ocean. Despite her inability to return my smile, I threw my arms around her shoulders and crushed our bodies together, as if that was my intention all along. 

Emily slowly returned the hug, awkward laughs tumbling out of her mouth intermittently.  

I cleared my throat. "Well wasn't that fun?" 

I'm pretty sure I said that, but my mind was screaming so loud that I honestly heard nothing else. 

* * *

 Later I had to refuse Emily's offer to escort me back to my room. I was still reeling from what had almost happened earlier, my mind clouded with thoughts of her hands, eyes, and lips. Not to mention I couldn't risk Noel finding out where I had been and who I'd been with. 

Despite my unrest, I could do nothing else but wear a ridiculous smile all the way back to my room. The adrenaline was still flowing in rivers through my body, and the rhythm of the third class drums still beat in my veins. 

But right before I opened the door to my room, I spotted Spencer across the hall. She stilled like a child who had been caught stealing candy, eyes locked with mine. In her hands she held a red scarf, a scarf she instinctively tried to hide.  

I gasped. I knew that scarf – Toby was wearing it down in third class. 

I smiled wickedly. "You're getting back late, Spencer," I remarked. "Wherever have you been?" 

"Well that depends on where you've been," she replied with an arrogant head tilt.  

It was then that I scolded myself. I had been far too eager to comment on her activities that I completely ignored the fact that if she had spent the evening with Toby, she would most certainly have known where I'd been. 

I gritted my teeth. “I went to the reading room." 

"In that case, I went for a swim in the pool," she said.  

I nodded bitterly, and a short pause stretched between us. "Good night, Spencer." I was about to open the door when Spencer suddenly appeared beside me. 

"You know what? We don't have to do this." 

"Do what?" I asked with a raised eyebrow. 

"We can either pretend like we both know nothing and keep this information as leverage, or we can speak as friends would." 

I released the door handle and faced her. "And what, pray tell, would friends say to each other?" 

She paused. "I'm afraid for you." 

"For me? Spencer, it is you who are entering a dalliance with Toby." 

"It's not a dalliance," Spencer insisted. 

"Whatever it is. When people realize that your lack of history with men has nothing to do with high standards, your family might disown you. Toby is a man. Emily is..." 

"Gay." Spencer said with assured finality. I froze. My hand was stuck in mid gesture as I stared in horror at her. That was not a piece of information she could possibly have figured out on her own. She leveled my stare. "Toby let it slip." 

That explained it. Back in those days it was much rarer to assume someone was a homosexual, mostly because most people kept it a secret. A woman staring adoringly at another was always seen as idealization, not romance.

My whole body shook with anger on Emily's behalf. I wanted to hit Toby for letting such dangerous information slip, even if it was to one of my best friends.  

But I remained silent, worried that I would speak one of a thousand wrong responses to that statement. Spencer dropped her head momentarily, and I felt a flash of satisfaction knowing she at least felt some guilt. 

Then she grabbed my limp hand in hers and looked at me with sympathy. "When Toby told me, all the questions I had were answered. But now I have so many more." 

"Perhaps you should keep them to yourself," I snapped, regretting speaking to her in any fashion at all. 

Spencer sighed. "Don't pretend you didn't know." 

I laughed mockingly at her assumption. "I'm not. Not all of us need other people to tell us what's true." 

"Then you know that girl is falling for you." My breath caught in my throat and I felt my heart stop. Spencer squeezed my hand harder. "And you for her." 

Her words brought me to a stupor. I felt faint; and angry; and shocked; and rebellious. 

And defeated. 

"What-" 

" _Don't_  try to deny it," Spencer snapped. “Tonight I witnessed an Alison Dilaurentis who followed her feelings rather than the plan. And I have a feeling she has no idea what she’s doing." My mouth closed harshly. It was just like Spencer to assume she knew everything. 

Of course, history proved she was usually right. 

Then Spencer waited. She waited and waited for me to respond. But what could I say? To this point I had ignored all thoughts that lead to inner reflection. My whole life I never spoke to anyone as a friend, because talking about my own feelings was talking about something I didn't fully understand. 

Humans always fear what they don't understand. So what else was there to do but ignore what I feared? 

"I..." I let out a deep breath, trying to slow the frightened beat of my heart. I thought and thought, trying to find a way out, to deny the allegations. To keep my heart safe. But is was over. And Spencer would not allow me to ignore it any longer. "This is new for me." It was all I was willing to admit to her, and thankfully she was satisfied. I let out a relieved breath as she squeezed my hand in comfort with a sad smile. I felt tears begging to be released, but I held them back, trying to keep some semblance of control. Spencer let go of my hand after a moment, worry adorning her features. 

"This is bad, Alison." 

I scoffed. “Why am I not surprised that you would be judgmental about this?” 

“I'm not one of those people that will lecture you about sinning. I've read enough to understand that love isn't as simple as people would believe. But I’m worried.” 

"You are taking the same risks I am with Toby," I tried to argue. 

“Of course I'm not." She replied incredulously. "But at least I understand them. My family is rich - they aren't relying on my relationship with a man to save us. Sure, they will be upset. But I have a chance." Spencer took a half a step toward me. "If you continue down this path, you will lose everything." 

“I’m just...having fun,” I said unconvincingly. I thought back to that evening, to how Emily and I had laughed when we danced. To how she held my waist so firmly to make sure I never fell. To the look she gave me when she told me I looked free. "She's different Spencer. Nothing like us." 

Spencer leaned back from me, her eyes darting across my face in awe, like she couldn't believe what she had just heard. Like the person standing in front of her wasn't real at all.  

I could empathise. Sometimes I couldn't believe myself either. 

“You really are changing," she said softly. 

I turned away from her and flicked the handle of the door, unwilling to talk anymore. "Good night, Spencer." 

But she still needed the last word.  

"At the end of this voyage you’re going to lose something. Choose what matters most to you, and choose now. Before too many people get hurt.” 

I shut the door as Spencer finished, closing myself off to her presence and her words. 

It was there, leaning against the door that I finally admitted it to myself. 

Yes, it was new. But it was clear: I was falling for Emily Fields.  

And at least for that night, I didn't want to think of the consequences. I didn't want to think of what Spencer had said. I just wanted to think of her. I wanted to shut my eyes and see her dancing across from me with that smile of unbridled joy. I didn't want to stop what I was feeling – because for the first time in my life I had felt something real. All my memories prior were lies, images of a spectator. I was someone who had placed bets on life but understood nothing about the game at all. Emily, for the first time, had made me feel that I was living. So I laid in my bed and retreated into my reverie, replaying everything I had seen and felt. Imagining Emily's hands around my waist and her everlasting smile. Imagining that I could do exactly what I had wanted - and kissed her. 

Like I said, it was one of the best nights of my life. But the warmest of summers cannot stop the coming winter. And we would all freeze soon enough. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! I've been in Europe for the last month, mostly without access to a computer, so I hope this chapter is worth the wait!
> 
> So I got an influx of comments in the past week (as I understand it, someone recently recommended this fic on twitter. If anyone can tell me who so I can thank them that would be much appreciated!), and as I got so many at once I'd just like to thank everyone who commented and left kudos! As you can tell it gives fantastic motivation and makes it all worth while. You are all champions!
> 
> In honour of the Irish party in third class and my favourite music genre, here is my favourite Irish punk rock and Irish instrumental:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YPaz0p2dpEk Devil's Dance Floor by Flogging Molly.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ieUAkH53t3M Lord of the Dance, instrumental cover.
> 
> I hope you all have a wonderful 2018!


	6. Why Are They Pointing at my Head?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Lying Woman

I remember my dreams from that night very vividly. They were consumed with Emily and a thousand almost kisses, repeating themselves over and over. Almost like those dreams where you are suddenly naked and still can't find clothes countless scenarios later. It made waking that morning quite the rollercoaster. Initially my mind had to sort through the shock of realising those dreams were just that - dreams, and all those things would never happen. Then I experienced the whiplash of realising that, no, it did happen, and my mind was just terribly obsessed.

But with the adrenaline and the bliss out of my blood, Spencer's words began to echo in my ears like a morning hangover. What was I possibly to do about my feelings? I was engaged, with an entire family relying on that relationship.

Not to mention: Emily was a woman.

The world is different now; it's much more accepting of different people. Choosing to pursue my growing feelings for Emily in 1912 meant entering a life of lies, hiding and deception. Three days earlier that wouldn’t have been a problem. In fact, that was basically my entire existence anyway. But life’s cruel irony was that everything about Emily made me not want to be that person.

I’m sure I would have spent that entire morning reflecting over these questions. I would have dreamed the ideal life and shuddered at thought of the worst consequences.

Noel, however, ensured that I had no time to ponder at all.

“I was worried about you last night,” he said while I prepared myself for breakfast, fastening my jewelry and gently powdering my face.

I immediately knew something was different. The thing about Noel was that every sentence he spoke was tailored to whomever he spoke with. He morphed from one personality to the other: an expert socialite. You could always guess exactly what he'd be like depending on who he surrounded himself with. With me, for example, he was the charmer. With his father, he was the loyal servant. With his friends, he was the confident leader.

But with one sentence I could hear the genuine emotion in his voice, tailored for nothing and no one. I was surprised to find he was actually worried, but there was something underneath that worry. Like a diamond under the ground that’s been undiscovered for a million years. That morning I knew I was dealing with the real Noel Kahn – the raw man, who was almost entirely acting on his emotions. And there is only one emotion that could do that to a man like Noel: hurt pride.

"Whatever for? You know I go off on my own sometimes," I said, casually applying blush.

"Forgive me, but last night my fiancé told me she was attacked. I'm suddenly feeling rather protective." Yes, protective, like one might be of an heirloom. Noel was leaning against the bed, arms crossed in his lap. I'd never seen someone emit anger from such a posture.

"It's sweet of you to worry," I said with false fondness to placate him, hoping he'd drop the subject. But the thrum of my rapidly beating heart said I knew better.

I watched him through the mirror as he stood from the bed, cockily pressing his body to mine behind me, his arms stretching out on both sides to clutch the cabinets edge. He then hummed indignantly. “You know what I didn’t expect? I didn’t expect for you to slither under the decks and spend your time in a place where men like that can hurt you all over again.”

My left hand froze as I went to dab my brush, my fingers curling around the wood in a tight, stabilising grip. The other tried not to shake as I held the blush in my hand.

"You sent your dog after me?"

Just to clarify, it wasn't unlike me to call Wilden a dog. This wasn’t something I said to agitate Noel, nor did it usually bother him. His body guard was just a mindless beast who followed any order without question and slobbered for the money he was given at the end of the day.

But I digress.

"For what other reason would you attack me at dinner last night other than to grab more of my attention?" He baited.

I released a breath, head dipping in shame. "I spoke out of turn last night."

Noel smiled sickly, staring at me through the mirror like a lion who had cornered his prey. "And yet, out of everything you did, it seems it was the most appropriate."

I placed the makeup down on the oak cabinet, if only to hide the fact that I could no longer stop the trembles. “I’ve been getting bored with the girls, and Emily offered to give me the tour.”

“Must have been quite a tour for you to stay out all night.”

“It was the first and only time, I assure you,” I said with finality.

The part of me that spoke the words out loud meant it: the one that always defended my own honour, the one that had worked my whole life to be engaged to a man like Noel Kahn, and the one who had watched from a corner as I had danced with Emily. However, the moment I said the words, that part of me retreated once again, and I wanted to scream at Noel in defiance.

Either Noel noticed, or he was too paranoid of my lying ability. He gave a disappointed smile before using his hands to turn me around to face him. His whole body seemed to be on alert, and even if his mouth looked relaxed and in control, I could visibly see the tightness of his cheeks. He grabbed my shoulders, and though his nails were as short as any mans, I could feel them claw into my skin.

“I know what the script says I’m supposed to say now," he began, still with a slight smile. "But since you’ve been going off script so much recently, allow me to show you the same courtesy and tell you instead about a very interesting conversation Wilden had with a blind girl last night." He let go of my shoulders and walked a few steps backward, satisfied that he had my attention. "You see according to this girl, Emily has some very unnatural…interests. Sinful, one might say."

An almost inaudible gasp escaped me. I had never felt panic like that before (though the next many hours would supply me with enough to last a lifetime). Sweat began to threaten its presence on my forehead, so I tried my best to breathe as comfortably as possible. But lying is so much harder when you care to such a degree that your emotions betray the truth.

And I hadn't prepared myself for the possibility that Noel might find out that Emily was gay.

"This girl really seems to dislike her, actually. Apparently, Emily has poisoned the relationship between her and her brother, and now they barely spend time together. Me and her should probably have tea. Bond over our similar grievances,” he said with an accusatory inflection.

I stared at him, unblinkingly. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Noel sighed in disappointment. "Then let me try and make this clearer for you." He stepped forward and leaned in so our faces were inches apart, and so my eyes could not look anywhere else but into his without seeming a coward. They were so icy; lifeless. Nothing like Emily's. There was no deep sea of emotion or love. Just a shallow dark spot, eager to swallow me whole.

“Me and you, Alison, we _understand_ that people with money can afford to lose so much more than people without it. But destroying you isn't really a favourable option for me. Emily though? Oh...the things I could do to her." My hand could barely hold me steady, and his smile indicated that he knew it. "So maybe you will remember that the next time you choose to _humiliate_ me.”

I wanted to throw him overboard, to call in the entire U.S navy and have him imprisoned in a camp where no one would ever find him.

But Noel was right. The only reason I had any power at all was because I made people think I had. Without that fear, I could do nothing. I had no money to influence others. All I had was the influence I had through Noel, and Noel would only grant me that power if I gave him my admiration and desire. Making him feel undesired was a grave mistake, and now I had nothing to bargain with. Nothing that could protect Emily.

So I said nothing. I stared and stared, something he clearly revelled in. But even though he was somewhat enjoying himself, I could see the rage resting in the palms of his fist.

"If you ever talk to me like that again in front of others, there isn't a stone I won't turn, a deal I won't make to ensure you and your family's destruction." Noel walked to the door and calmly opened it. "I'll let everyone know you won't make breakfast." He straightened his coat. "In that time, you take care of her, Alison. Or I will."

* * *

 I must have sat on that bed for an hour trying to get my breath under control, and to keep my tears behind my eyes. I suppose the only way to describe how I felt is that it was like being told you've won the lottery, only to be informed it was a mistake right when the cash is being held in front of you. I just wanted to close my eyes again and return to my dreams. Not being able to kiss Emily a thousand times was better than the panic of not knowing what to do next.

It had all gone wrong so quickly, and I cursed myself over and over for expecting anything else. There was never going to be a happy ending with Emily. She was a third class _woman_. It would have more acceptable to marry a ten year old boy.

But on the ship of dreams, who could blame me for getting carried away? Emily had shown me a whole new world; made me feel things I'd never felt before. Things I had read in books and even told in my own stories, but that I'd never really understood. Unfortunately, sitting on that bed, I told myself the ship of dreams was no different than the rest of reality. Nothing comes freely, and following your feelings was like plastering on a bacteria infested band aid – it feels better at first, but would only infect your entire body.

Emily wasn't the exception. She couldn't be.

I composed myself, and then I went looking for Emily.

* * *

 In the end I didn't even have to look; she found me first in one of the first class hallways.

...Remember how, when I described our first meeting, I said I would have altered that part of the story if I could? If I chose to be dishonest?

Well this next part, I would omit completely.

''Ali!" She beamed excitedly.

I darted my gaze away from that warm smile to her eyes, only to find even more adoration resting there. You can't really understand without meeting her, but trying to avoid Emily's adoration was like trying to avoid the sun in an open field. You could look at your feet, but it would just pierce your periphery. You could turn your back, but that was hardly a way to converse. All you could do was hope that the clouds would come to cover the sun.

"Emily," I replied cautiously, looking around me to see if we had an audience. Luckily the hallway was clear, but I had to be sure.

"I just wanted to..."

Before she could finish her sentence I grabbed her forearm and hastily pulled her inside a random room. I recognised it as the massage room, and luckily only the one worker was occupying it.

"Leave us," I ordered the worker with a murderous gaze, which was enough for her to practically sprint from the room.

Emily stuttered a few times in surprise until I let her arm go, walking toward the window while releasing a tense breath. When I looked back at her, I saw curiosity, nerves, and even a hint of excitement. I suppose it was a bad idea to pull the girl you just almost kissed into an empty room while acting totally unsure of yourself - It probably gave the wrong impression.

I had fully intended to simply explain things to her. To say a sorrowful goodbye but promise that she held a place in my heart and my memory, and maybe even steal one kiss to imprint on my mind forever. But the excitement, hope, and yearning I saw in her eyes gave me a glimpse of the future, and I knew she would never accept it.

It was one of the reasons I adored her after all, that after everything she'd been through, Emily was still so _good_ \- she never stopped fighting. And if that look in her eye meant what I think it meant, I was never going to be able to leave that room, or that ship without her.

So I knew. I knew I couldn't just take a kiss for myself and go. I had to make sure she kept no hope for us.

I had to be Alison Dilaurentis. I couldn't just put clouds in the sky: I had to make it pour.

My silence stretched on long enough for her excitement to be replaced with worry.

"Ali...?" Emily reached out her hand to touch me, and I threw my shoulder back as if she had the touch of death.

"Don't!" I snapped mercilessly. She balked, retracting her hand as if she was suddenly afraid to touch. I steeled my shoulders and raised my chin. "I've indulged you long enough. Now...it's time for you to leave."

"What?" She asked, bewildered, as if she had woken up standing in the middle of China.

"Leave. Do not return to first class, and never approach me again." I poured all the anger I could into my tone, anger that I sourced from Noel's poisoned words and bastard smile.

"Alison, what happened? Where is this coming from?" Her voice was laced with concern for me, and I wanted to run out of that room. She had no idea how undeserving I was of her concern.

"You know where this is coming from. You didn't think I wouldn't notice how you were trying to pass on your _disease_ to me last night?" Emily froze at that, and I knew this was the point I had to push forward on. "I'll admit I was enjoying myself. I wanted some practice, talking to the lower classes. If I had it my way I'd have nothing to do with pitiful filth like you, but in a position like mine we have to seem...compassionate. To a point." With each word that came out of my mouth, I saw the colour draining from her face. Her eyes filled with tears, though she was yet to let them go. My aim, as terrible as it sounds, was to make her. "And I can finally say I'm confident enough to interact with steerage garbage, thanks to you. Could have done with even a bit more practice...but then I saw the look in your eyes. And I will not be tainted by your obscene desires."

"This isn't you." Emily voice was as unsteady as a wine glass in an earthquake.

"Wrong." I said with all the force I could muster while still seeming composed. "This is as me as I've ever been. Accept it Emily. You were practice."

"You felt what I felt last night, I know you did!" She said it like it was a plea.

"So desperate," I looked at her like you would a crippled dog. "So pathetic." Emily flinched, and I saw my final opening. I took a few step forwards until I was as close to her as I'd been the night before when we danced, when our lips were just a thread apart. Only this time I stared at her lips tauntingly, while my body stood rigid. "I told you I was a great liar." My eyes flicked up to hers. "You should have believed me."

The flood gates opened, and I took my leave. Emily to stood alone in that room, beginning the journey of repairing the destruction I had just wrought.

Meanwhile, I walked endlessly down the halls with no other thought than to keep moving one step at a time.

Intent is everything. It is the key to a person’s sanity. If I had kept replaying Emily’s heartbreak in my mind, or stayed long enough to watch her break, I myself may have shattered on that deck. I may have wailed and cried and begged for forgiveness. But that’s not how you stay strong. You have to always remember why you made the decisions you made, and never judge yourself outside the context in which you made them. That’s how you learn when you were wrong - and it’s how you forgive yourself when you know you were right. It took me a long time to understand that.

So instead I kept a different image of Emily in my mind - first of a life of absolute horror, and then one where she was happy and free, with children, a dog, and a beautiful woman. A life where she was safe and content. A life I would have ensured by my actions.

That’s how I kept my head held high, even in the hours after we’d spoken.

It's how, even when you do the most terrible of things...eventually you can believe you were a good person for it.

* * *

 I'd spent the rest of that day trying to avoid any and all contact with familiar faces, which mostly consisted of hiding behind books in small rooms. Tired of the constant moving around, I waited until the afternoon when I knew Noel would be drinking with all the titles Titanic had to offer, then I returned to my room and hid myself away like a hermit, sitting in a chair and not reading a single word of the book I held open in front of me.

To my detriment, Hanna found me.

“What the hell did you do?”

I cursed, ensuring that Hanna caught the roll of my eyes. But while my irritation was obvious, Hanna was positively enraged.

Having exhausted my ability to lie for the day, enduring the third degree from Hanna wasn't exactly on the top of my to-do list. “Not now, Hanna.” My best tactic was to play it straight. Show Hanna I wasn't in the mood and hope she'd let it go. But that was incredibly stupid – Hanna Marin let nothing go.

"No. You don't deserve a break after what you did to that girl." Hanna rested a challenging hand on her hip.

“She talked to you?” She raised her eyebrows in confirmation. I nervously scoffed. "How pathetic for her to come crying to you." I shut my book with a clap and threw it onto the table.

Hanna slammed the door shut before resting her arm on her other hip. "Three things, Alison Dilaurentis." I raised an eyebrow at her tone. "One," she took a step forward. "She didn't come crying to me, she had to return my dress. Two," another step. "Even though she looked like she's spent the entire morning crying, she didn't say a single thing to me about you. Three," with her last step, I felt Hanna's hot breath on my face, like volcanic ash, as she leaned downwards and gripped the sides of my chair. "You don't deserve a single one of those tears."

Every point made me flinch, yet I could do nothing but vehemently agree with the third.

“If she didn't tell you anything, then why are you here?" My voice sounded so tired, like I wasn't even conscious.

"To sort this out, someone has to."

"It's sorted. It's done."

Hanna released the sides of my chair, stood tall, and crossed her arms. "Typical Alison. She feels happy for a single day and thinks the apocalypse will come if she lets it continue. What sent you running this time? Was it when you realised she was falling in love with you, or was it when you realised you were falling in love with her?"

I would have been shocked that she knew, but I was tired, and it was the third conversation I was having about it in under twenty-four hours.

I crossed my arms. "You've been talking to Spencer then."

"Wait, Spencer knows?" She waved me off before I could respond. "Never mind, we can come back to that. No, I haven't spoken to Spencer about it. I just saw you genuinely smile last night. You might as well have put a flashing sign over your head."

"If you really believe I have such disgusting feelings because of a smile you are as gullible as Emily. I expected more from you."

"I wish I could say the same."

I angrily jumped out of my chair. "Shut up, Hanna! I'm really tired of everyone sticking their noses into my business."

"Everyone?"

"You, Spencer, Noel...everyone!" I screamed in her face, but she didn't back down. However her brow did drop, sadness suddenly colouring her face in shades of grey and blue.

"You let Noel find out about this?" She whispered, just loud enough for me to hear.

Hanna's response deflated my own anger. I grabbed the book I had been reading from the table and walked back to the book shelf, tentatively placing it back in its alphabetically ordered slot. "I've let far too many things happen that I shouldn't have."

I stilled at the bookcase for many seconds, one hand sliding down the spine of my book and the other resting on the shelf. It wasn't long before I felt Hanna's presence behind me. I could sense her uncertainty, probably stemming from a want to comfort me, but she was unsure of how to do so.

"Did Noel threaten you?" She finally asked.

I turned around and leaned against the bookcase. "It wasn't me he threatened."

Hanna sighed sadly. "Ali...me, Aria, Spencer...we are here for you. We can help."

"I told you. There's nothing left to be done."

"She makes you happy. I've never seen anyone make you that happy."

All I could think was how the happiness I had felt in the last two days would bring me nothing but misery for the rest of my life. What worth is happiness when it is left as scar? Till then, I'd spent my life being focused on achieving goals and bettering my own future, and it had never brought me such pain.

"It was one night. It doesn't mean anything."

"Alison..." Hanna bent her knees slightly to look up into my solemn gaze. "We can all help defend you, both of you, against Noel."

I scoffed. "No you can't. And why would you?"

"Because we're your friends. Noel may have money, but so do I. And Spencer's last name is Hastings for God's sake. I know you don't like to remember it, but you've done the same for us. When my business was going under, you were the one that got the money to help get us out of trouble. I know you did that for me, even if you don't want to admit it."

"It doesn't matter. Emily won't trust me now anyway."

"I've never seen you give up on what you want."

"I want her safe!" I yelled, walking back to my chair and collapsing into it. I held my fingertips to my forehead and sighed.

Hanna looked down and began to draw circles into the rug with her toes. "You know, yesterday, when I helped her with her dress...all Emily wanted to talk about was you. She asked question after question...wanted to know how we met, what I thought of you, your birthday...everything. I could tell she had feelings for you straight away."

"Who could have known you were so intuitive?" I said sarcastically.

"Intuitive? Have you seen those eyes? They couldn't hide a speck of dust if they wanted."

I clenched my eyes tightly shut. The last thing I needed was to see those eyes again in my mind, to see how the tears began to pour out of them in heartbreak. I only opened them again when I felt Hanna's hand on my shoulder. She smiled warmly down at me.

"I told Emily that Alison Dilaurentis was a mystery wrapped in a cold case. That you could ask everyone the same questions and you'd get different answers." She dropped her arm. "But I also told her I knew one thing for certain: I told her Alison Dilaurentis is fierce, she's a fighter, she protects the things she cares about. So the person who is able to uncover the entire story will have one of the greatest gifts in the world."

We'd never spoken like that before - raw and heartfelt. Her words made me feel like glass...and I finally broke.

"I can't be the reason that her life is ruined." My voice shook as the tears began to stream out, and I didn’t have the courage to look into Hanna's eyes as I spoke.

"Don't you think she deserves to decide that for herself?"

"I know what she'll choose. She won't even think it through."

Hanna chuckled. "That's because she knows what she wants, Ali."

I stared at Hanna incredulously. “Why do you _want_ me to be with Emily?”

“I’d want you to be with a giraffe if I thought it would make you a nicer person.”

I rolled my eyes. If Hanna was a sword, she wouldn’t be able to cut through a string.

Hanna sighed a fifth time. "What is the future you imagine when you consider your choices?"

"Emily and I don't have a future. She's a woman! We can't live like you and Caleb."

Hanna waved my comment away like I was a child. "People have been hiding secrets since the dawn of time, you know that better than anyone. There are ways. Come on, indulge me."

I took a deep, frustrated breath. "If I let her go, I marry Noel and live a wealthy life with three children who will want for nothing. The world will respect me, and I will have enough influence to change things the way I see fit." It came out of my mouth like an automated message. I didn't even have to picture it in my mind, it was imprinted on it like a tattoo.

"And the other option?"

The other option...I had barely had the time to think about it. "Realistically...Emily and I could probably travel to places where no one knows us and people would make no assumptions. Then once the adventure is over we'd live in a quiet place. Very quiet. Secluded probably." Each word was like another strike from a paintbrush in my mind. Whereas a life with Noel seemed like an old photograph hanging from the wall for generations, imaginating a future with Emily was like the northern lights. The image was alive, and it danced and moved in all sorts of colours. 

I continued. "In a place like that we could be with each other without a fear of persecution. Maybe we could adopt a child, or at least a dog. We'd dance at night, read together, maybe she could teach me to swim. We'd just...be together."

"And are you prepared to live in a raccoon infested log cabin in Minnesota?"

I remained silent as I pondered. Of all the futures I had imagined for myself over the years, that certainly wasn't one of them. Yet suddenly the image was clear in my mind, like someone who's never seen the ocean and was gazing upon it for the first time. I could see the lake near our house...Emily swimming as I watched from the shore. It was a fantasy, of course, and it seemed so much further away than anything else I'd ever wanted.

But it looked, oh, so beautiful.

Hanna sat on the armrest beside me. "All you have to ask yourself now...is what do you really want?"

I closed my eyes, and thought.

Then, for the second time that day, I went looking for Emily Fields.

* * *

 About twenty years ago I lost my keys while shopping at Ikea. As my granddaughters know, when I shop, I stop by almost every item there is to evaluate its worth, so walking back through the entire store to find those keys was more tiresome than a thanksgiving dinner. But I can tell you that it took less time to find my keys that day than it did to find Emily Fields on April 13th, 1912. After that afternoon, I probably knew the Titanic better than Brian Montgomery.

You're probably thinking, why didn't I just ask Toby? Well, I thought about it, and even heard him talking to his sister behind the door of his room (where I stood for at least ten minutes trying to discern if Emily was there). Considering his use of profanities, I figured I'd probably just be slowed down by getting into an argument with him. That...and I might have physically assaulted his sister if I went through the door.

By the time the sun was setting I was about to give up on my search. My legs felt like they were on stilts, and my eyes were so tired from doing the optical equivalent of a three hour musical. It was just as I began to sit on one of the benches at the bow of the ship that I saw her. She was standing on top of the railing at the very front of the ship, holding on to the mast with her fingertips and leaning forward. My heart came to a complete stop. I ran as fast as I could toward her, never blinking, nor worrying about how my dress was flying upwards in the wind.

"Emily!" I screamed when she was in earshot. Her head suddenly jerked towards me and she frowned so harshly that her brow almost covered her eyes. "Don't do it!"

Emily rolled her eyes, which brought me to a halt. "Calm down." She leapt down from the railing, digging her hands into her pockets once her feet were firmly planted. "You don't have that much power over me," she said firmly. Too firmly, like it was something she'd been repeating to herself all day. I could empathise.

Not that either of us felt so miserable that we wanted to jump off the ship. However, just like she suddenly turned my world upside down, I could see in her eyes that Emily had felt that same overwhelming influence from me. In that moment, I knew exactly what Hanna meant when she said Emily had looked like she'd been crying all morning. What else is there to do when you're trying to convince yourself that the woman you were falling for doesn't matter to you?

"What can I do for you, Miss Dilaurentis?" Her voice was so cold, so distant, filled with disdain and heartbreak.

I sucked in a deep breath, as if it carried my courage. She stood so far away that I was scared my words might not reach her, but I didn't want to step closer, lest I make things worse.

The only hope I had was words, and I just had to trust in them.

"I...came here to apologise. And even though, more than anything, I want your forgiveness, I don't think saying the words I'm sorry are enough." Emily continued to stare at me, her expression unchanging. She agreed with me, I suppose. "The thing is...I don't know _how_ to be free. I don't know how to act and say things that people don't expect of me, or that don't fit into the plan I've had since I was four. A plan I had because the world told me to have it. But then I met you, and now that plan is unraveling before my eyes and there is nothing I can do to stop it."

Emily took a sharp breath, the only physical sign to show my words were affecting her.

"So..." I continued. "I did what you said I should do. I closed my eyes and asked myself what I would do if the world disappeared."

"...And?" She asked, hesitantly.

"And the only face I could see was yours."

Emily began to shake her head, like she was trying to expel the words from her ears. Like it was one of the ideal scenarios she had imagined that day and was now trying to convince herself wasn't real. I guess that's the consequence of telling someone how good a liar you are.

"How am I suppose to believe that? When I carry a _disease_." The way she spat the word felt like an arrow piercing my lung. And if that's how I felt hearing it back, I couldn't even imagine how much I'd hurt her when I'd said it that morning.

"I'm so sorry." My voice shook, but for once I tried not to hide it. I had to show Emily who I was. I had to be the real Alison Dilaurentis, whatever that meant. "I don't know what I want. I just know it's not in my plan. And if I can't see a happy ending...I get scared."

"That's the thing about happy endings. You need to fight for them," she said, matter-of-factly. 

"I know. That's why I'm here. I don't deserve it, but I'm asking you to show me what freedom is like."

Emily turned her head away from me, but I could see her anger fade and transform, just like the gradients of the sunset. Colour returned to her eyes, the sun's reflection glimmering within them. Then she closed them, trapping her thoughts inside, away from me. I took that moment to study her – marveling at how even the wind moved the waves of her hair in such a fashion to make it seem like not even God could control her.

There really was no one else on that ship that could have loved me. Emily carried all the forgiveness and hope the world had to offer, and when she turned back to me and offered it to with her hand, I suddenly felt all my misery wash away and into the ocean, the relief in my heart spreading all the way into my newly beaming smile.

"Come here," she said softly.

When I took Emily's hand I made sure there wasn't a millimeter of space between our palms and fingers. Her thumb began to caress my knuckles as we both stared down at our connected hands. "I came here because I wanted to clear my head, which I usually do by swimming. And this is as close to swimming as I can get."

"You're not going to throw me overboard are you?" I joked nervously.

She laughed, and those eyes shone once more.

"Here. You'll see what I mean."

With Emily's help I stepped onto the railing, though not as high as she had. Emily let go of my hand and placed her hands on my hips. The second I lost contact I gripped onto the railing for balance, my breaths releasing in short bursts, though I tried to hide it from Emily.

"I've got you, Ali. Let go."

I could do nothing but obey, so I released the railing, stretching my arms out into the wind.

It felt amazing. I hadn’t swam since I was a little girl, but standing there I immediately understood what Emily had meant. It wasn’t that the spray and the wind made you feel like you were a part of the water; and honestly, if I’d described it myself, I wouldn’t compare it to swimming. But this must have been the sensation Emily felt when she swam. It was like the wind was blowing away my troubles, that with only open ocean in front of me the world was ready to bow to my every command. I suddenly felt powerful, but also entirely carefree. It was just me and Emily, her hands protectively wrapped around my waist, steadying me.

She was always steadying me.

Suddenly I was brought back to the dance floor, to how close we’d come. How her hands gripped my waist in the exact same way. Only this time, there was no instruments or people to distract me. There was just us, standing over the Atlantic.

I steeled myself and leaned my head back to lie against Emily’s cheek.

“I didn’t tell you the whole truth before.”

She chuckled beside my ear. “Do you ever?”

“I know exactly what I want.”

And then I turned my head, and I kissed her.

You want to know what true freedom feels like? It's nothing to do with the wind and the ocean.

It's kissing the love of your life with all the passion in your body, with every possibility that someone would catch you.

And not giving one single damn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song of the chapter is Liar by Arcadian Wild https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WyLMTgR_fuc (basically Alison's theme, for the first five seasons anyway).
> 
> I'm so grateful and also very surprised to the response to the last chapter, thank you everyone from the bottom of my heart! And to those who are still reading despite my incredibly frustrating update schedule, you guys are the reason I'm determined to complete this fic. I'm sorry that I don't have a schedule, but unfortunately neither does my life which is currently going through a big transition. And considering this is fanfic, I do have to prioritise other writing projects, though I will always do my best to not let you down. Much love xoxo


End file.
